


Burdens of the Flesh

by Butterbeerandbutterknives



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Chronic Pain, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, F/M, Murder Mystery, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, dislocations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25678834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterbeerandbutterknives/pseuds/Butterbeerandbutterknives
Summary: “Of pain you could wish only one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain, there are no heroes.”George Orwell, 1984Post-S3Alec Hardy likes to keep his enemies close and his secrets closer. When he finds himself admitting to Ellie Miller that his health issues run far beyond arrhythmia, he never expects for the confession to be overshadowed by yet another ghastly murder ripping through the town of Broadchurch.Or, what if Alec Hardy had Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome?
Relationships: Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller
Comments: 55
Kudos: 164
Collections: Broadchurch Related Fics





	1. The Hermit (Reversed)

**Author's Note:**

> Notice: both Rape/Non-Con and Underage are discussed as crimes, but are not talked about vividly.  
> Also, the depiction of Ehlers Danlos Syndrome is based on my own experience with hEDS, despite me writing Alec as cEDS. I've written about hEDS in another series, but it seems the vast majority of fics with EDS seem to deal with that subtype so I thought it time for some diversity.  
> If you'd like to learn more about Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, you can find a basic overview of the condition [here.](https://www.ehlers-danlos.com/what-is-eds/)

There’s a schema of the crippled man, an old fellow who does nothing but gripe about the horror clutching his joints, who deals with it by belittling everything and everyone around him, not stopping until he is alone, stranded not by his pain, but his reaction to it. A man who only finds himself at the bottom of a bottle, a man who has surrendered to the lifetime of agony.

That man was not Alec Hardy.

Or so he’d been trying to convince himself for the last hour and a half, as he sat on the stairway to his house, staring into the icy waters ahead. He thinks about it, sometimes, how close he is to drowning in the anguish. How he wakes some mornings, unable to unfurl his fingers from their fist until he’d warmed them with his breath. How his knees quake whilst walking along the cliffside, how his arms seem to hang like cement blocks from the sockets of his shoulders. He thinks of the bruises that litter his body like towns on a map, connected by the roads his prominent veins make.

He thinks of how he cursed his daughter to live the same life.

And that’s the thing about parenting, isn’t it? All you ever want, all you ever strive for, is for your child to have a better life than you did. Even now, as he sits on the stairs, with the wind sticking its icy claws betwixt his vertebrae, all he could muse was _I wonder how much pain Daisy is in right now._

He hadn’t known it was genetic before his daughter was born. He hadn’t even known what _it_ was until they took Daisy to the dermatologist when she was five.

“Just poison ivy.” The doctor had reassured. “Some calamine and a few days and she’ll be right as rain. But I noticed something else.” The _something else_ was exhibited as the dermatologist pulled the skin on his daughter’s neck several inches out, only to have it spring back into place immediately after the doctor let it go.

Alec frowned, looking at the concern etched across his wife’s face. “Surely that’s normal though, innit?” He queried. “Afterall, my skin does that, too.”

Two years. Two bloody years after that they finally had their NHS- scheduled appointment with a geneticist. DNA tests of both Daisy and Alec confirmed it. Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, Classical subtype. 

The next few years were a scramble for a new normal. Daisy was in Physical Therapy; their first aid kit was stocked with special bandages and enough anti-inflammatory medications to sustain a small army. Tess bugged him to have a yearly cardiovascular workup or do some of the exercises prescribed to their daughter, or just do something, _anything_ to manage it without their employers finding out, but he refused. He’d lived with it long enough, he figured. No need to make a fuss. Sure, his joints ached, and the button of his trousers rubbed his fragile skin raw, but he was fine.

And then Sandbrook happened.

And then the Lattimer case, and then his pacemaker, then rape of Trish Whitman and now-

And now he was alone. Daisy was at her mum's, having bought another train ticket that morning. It was late October, and the autumn was already fading into an early winter.

“Hello, sir.” A familiar voice chirped.

“What do you want, Miller?” He snarled. His spine was ice, his fingers made of razor blades. In his agony he was destined to drown, and the last thing he wanted was a witness.

“I heard about Daisy.” Ellie offered. “You weren’t answering your phone, so I figured I’d come and check on you.” She held up a bag. “I brought leftover lasagne.”

Alec looked up, trying to gauge the hour by the moon’s position. It was behind the house, now, so it had to be at least midnight. “You should be at home.” He said. “Go to bed, Miller.”

She snorted. “I think not.” She walked over and touched his frigid arm. “You’ll catch your death out here.” 

Alec glanced down. He was in slacks and a button-down without even his jacket. His fingertips were obviously blueing, even in the dimming moonlight. “I’ll go inside when I’m cold.” He defended.

The D.S huffed, obviously having none of it. “Listen.” She scolded. “I have been up since 6 o’clock, and yet, here I am, at one in the morning, trying to help you. Have a single shred of decency and let me take care of you so I can go home and look after my children, okay?”

“I don’t need your help, Miller.” Hardy sighed, but he slowly stood, regardless. It was painful going, as every time he moved the ice inside his joints seemed to snap into sharp points, but he managed to keep a hold of his façade.

“Alright then, you put on something warm and I’ll reheat this.” Ellie said once they were inside. She busied herself with the kettle and plopped the Tupperware container she’d brought into the microwave. Lord knows when her boss had eaten last. It was a meditative silence until she heard something from the other room.

“Shite.” Hardy muttered.

“You alright?” She called, walking over to his bedroom door.

“I swear to god Miller, if you come in here-“

The D.S stopped with her hand resting on the handle. “You get ten seconds to cover what needs covering before I come in.”

“For fucks sake.” Hardy protested.

‘’Ten-‘’

Hardy opened the door before she even got to eight. “Stop bloody worrying.”

“Well, excuse me for caring.” She snapped. She looked him over, admiring the cabling on the sweater he was wearing. He looked far too casual, with sweatpants and a pair of blue felted slippers. There was something off in the way he held himself. His face was drawn, and he was lent heavily on his right leg, which could only mean- “Where are you hurt?” She demanded. 

“What?” Hardy asked indignantly. “I’m fine.”

Ellie stared at him. When he made no further explanation, she knelt and pulled up his trouser leg. To her horror, his ankle joint looked like two tectonic plates colliding, rather than a straight line. “Oh my god.” She gulped. “Can you make it to the car, or should I ring 999?”

“I’m fine.” He snapped, half limping, half hopping past the D.S. “I’ll chuck some ice on it and it’ll be grand by tomorrow.”

“It’s _dislocated.”_ She roared. “You need surgery, not ice! A&E, now.”

Hardy opened his freezer and pulled out an ice pack before flicking on the kettle. “It’s not the first time.”

“What the fuck?” Ellie snapped. “So, you’ve injured it before, and now you’re willing just to brush it off?”

Alec lowered himself into one of the barstools at the countertop peninsula. Placing the ice down next to him, he grabbed his foot in one hand and his calf in the other, pulling them in opposite directions. With a crunching noise that reverberated all over the house, his ankle was back in the socket. Clutching the icepack, he put it on the rapidly swelling joint with a sigh of relief.

“That only fixes the bones, not the ligaments and you know it.” Ellie growled. “Car, now.”

Hardy fiddled with the zip of his sweater, trying to conjure the right words for the situation. “I didn’t tear any ligaments.” He settled on. “I stepped wrong pulling on my pants. There was no trauma.”

Miller ignored the beeping of the microwave. “I don’t understand.”

Alec ran a hand down his face. “Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.” He said simply.

Miller blinked before she pulled the lasagne from the microwave. She set it down and turned to rustle through the drawers, looking for forks. “Care to elaborate?”

“I have something called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.” He said simply. “Means I dislocate shite sometimes, it’s not a big deal.” 

“It must not be, for the academy to have overlooked it.” Miller replied. “Hell, they questioned me about my flat feet for a quarter-hour.” The guilty look on her boss’ face told her everything she needed to know. “You’re kidding.” She scolded. “They don’t know?”

“I didn’t get diagnosed until after Daisy was born.” He defended. “Besides, it’s not any of their business.”

“So, you’re alone in this?” Ellie questioned.

“I wish I fucking was.” He snarled. When his co-worker looked crestfallen, he tried to backpedal. “Shit, Ellie- I mean Miller- I mean.”

“Save it.” She snapped. “I ought to be getting back to Fred and Tom anyways.” She spun on her heel and left into the icy night, not once looking over her shoulder to witness the pained look etched on her boss’s face. 

* * *

The next day was quiet at the office. Too quiet, in fact. D.I Hardy had been in his office almost all day, barely even yelling at the detective who accidentally set off the smoke detector whilst making toast. It was nearing 4 p.m., and Ellie was starting to think they were all in for a quiet day when an officer came up to her.

“There’s a body.” The policeman said. “Same place as where the Lattimer boy was found. C.S wants you and shitface out there ASAP.”

“Fuck.” She gasped, standing up quickly. Bouldering into Alec’s office, she saw the Chief Superior talking with him already. “Ready to go?” She asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” He grunted, and the D.S tried not to notice the way his usual scowl was coloured with pain as they went down to the car park.

They were quiet during the quick ride to the beach, but before they got out, Ellie found herself voicing a quiet concern. “If you’re in pain.” She started. “Squeeze my shoulder twice and I’ll figure out a way for you to excuse yourself.”

Alec couldn’t look at her when he got out. In truth, the pain was in the background of his mind. What he could feel now was the sense of dread and despair he felt chewing up his stomach.

He wondered if the stress could kill him.

In that moment, he wished it would.

He tried to focus on the pain as he walked across the beach. Sand and shitty ankles weren’t a good combo, but he found himself incessantly drifting back to the feeling of Pippa’s body pressed against his chest. With each step, he tried to focus only on the shifting of his joints, but when he got close enough to really _see_ the corpse, he realised it was fruitless.

It was a child’s body.

“Oh, god.” Miller said, her voice thick with disgust. 

“Do you recognise her?” Alec asked. He focused on the crimson hair, ignoring the rest of the body. His Daisy wasn’t a redhead.

“No, no.” Ellie spoke. “Shit, why does this keep happening here?”

Alec frowned as he noticed a tag from the girl’s shirt sticking out near her clavicle. “Is her shirt on backwards?” As he looked closer, crouching down, he noticed her jeans weren’t zipped, only buttoned. “I’d say it was sexually motivated. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a DNA sample.” He stood, looking around at the coast.

“Sir.” Miller realized. “This isn’t near where Danny’s body was found. It _is_ where Danny’s body was found.” As a wave crashed onto the shore, she realized the potential that realization carried. “Oh, god.” Her mouth filled with saliva as she turned her back to the corpse. She felt close to breaking, like the safety net Broadchurch offered her had been destroyed. Fuck, how was she to tell Tom about this? He’d hear it on the news, surely, if the story wasn’t circulating his school already.

Two squeezes on her shoulder broke her out of her reverie. “We’ll be heading back to the station.” Alec lilted. “Let us know when the body’s made it to the morgue.”

Ellie felt her stomach turning, and when she entered the car, she placed her head against the steering wheel. “Tell me this wasn’t him.” She begged. “Even if it’s a lie, tell me this wasn’t Joe so I can make it through this day.”

“It wasn’t,” Hardy confirmed. “And that’s not a lie; Joe’s not a co-ed killer or a necrophiliac.” The shred of doubt in his chest felt like it was tearing his heart into orts, though. It didn’t matter how much his rational brain told him this was a vastly different murder, because all he could see was Daniel Lattimer lying on that beach. If it was this bad for him, he could only imagine how Miller was feeling. “Get out.” He commanded softly. “I’m driving.” 

When he turned right at the next intersection instead of left, she frowned. “I thought we were going back to the station.”

“You’re picking up Tom.” He told her. “He deserves to hear this from you. I doubt it will be long before the Echo is talking about his on Twitter.”

“Thank you.” Ellie breathed.

“Don’t thank me.” He spoke softly. “I’m just doing what friends do.”

“Ooh.” Miller teased. “I’ve been upgraded from co-worker to friend, have I?”

Alec stopped at the light as it turned yellow. “I think for us to solve this case, we’re going to need to be friends.”

The smile dropped from Ellie’s face as the moment sobered. “Yeah.” She nodded. “I think you’re right.” She looked out the window, trying to observe the puffy clouds, but all that ran through her head were images of Joe strangling a little girl. “We’re going to catch the bastard.” She told Alec, her head still facing away from him.

“You sound confident,” Hardy replied. “I take it that’s a promise?” 

“No,” Ellie replied, looking at her boss with a twinkle in her eye. “It’s a threat.”

* * *

By the time Alec made it to the mortuary, he scarlet haired corpse was already being gently deposited onto the stainless-steel slab. Alec watched, detached, as the girl’s clothes were removed and carefully bagged. The Medical Examiner frowned once the body was bare. “Closer to ten than twelve, I reckon.” He spoke. “Very little pubic hair. She was most likely just tall for her age.”

Alec swallowed the bile as he approached. There was a thin ring of dark bruises adorning the child’s throat like a macabre necklace. “I don’t think she was strangled by hand,” Hardy noted. “More likely a rope of some kind.”

“A garrotte, probably.” The M.E agreed. “You said she was found near where the Lattimer boy was?”

Alec pursed his lips nervously. “Call me when the report is done.” He said, walking out of the room. 

Hardy stopped in the hallway outside the morgue and leaned against the wall. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to remove the image of Daisy lying on the stainless-steel slab, having her body looked at with objectivity of a steak. He tried not to imagine the horror that little girl had gone through in her last moments as she was strangled.

He tried not to remember the toll the past two murder investigation took on him.

Opening his eyes and straightening up, he walked out of the building whilst taking his beta-blockers. He was going to need them if he wanted to survive this case.


	2. The Moon (Upright)

The text from Tess was short.

_Dr. Walters, TMRW 2 pm. U in?_

Putting on his reading glasses, Alec typed a quick reply.

_C U then. She ok?_

The reply was quick.

_Not sure. Wants us both there._

He didn’t bother a further reply as Ellie walked into his office. “Tea for you, coffee for me.”

“Ta.” He replied, but he was still staring at his phone screen.

“Everything alright?” She asked.

“Not sure.” Hardy replied. “Apparently Daisy wants both her mum and I at her therapist’s tomorrow.”

“Forgive for being nosey, Sir.” Ellie started, and Alec rolled his eyes preventatively. “But what exactly did you two talk about after you tore up the first train ticket?”

He sighed, feeling deflated as he remembered.

_“Knee braces, Daze.” He deadpanned, not looking up from the crossword._

_“Uhg!” Daisy groaned. “They do not in any way go with this outfit. I just want to look at least a little cool.”_

_He glanced up, wondering when his little girl had turned into a rebellious almost-adult. “Knee braces or we’re not going.” He insisted. “I’m not going to be the one to explain to your physical therapist how you dislocated both patellae at the pier just so you could be fully colour coordinated.”_

_Daisy’s face contorted with anger. “Maybe mom should have slept with Dave before Sandbrook.” She hissed. “Or maybe if you had just kept it in your pants, I wouldn’t have to wear knee braces just to walk across uneven ground!”_

_Alec couldn’t stop the hurt from flashing across his face. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it when he realised there was nothing to say. There were no words that would take away the pain she felt every moment of her waking, no magic phrase to string her bones together with. “I’m sorry.” He settled on._

_His daughter sighed, reaching a sheepish hand up to her hair. “I am too.” Dropping her hand, she continued. “I just- I don’t know. Maybe I should go back to mum’s for a bit.”_

_“Aye.” He nodded, wetting his dry lips with his tongue. “If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you this time.”_

“-Sir?” Ellie asked. “Everything alright?”

“They get anything about the residue on her thighs yet?” He responded, breezing over her inquiry.

“It’s lube, silicone-based.” She responded. “They’re narrowing down brand now.”

“Why fuck her thighs?” Hardy questioned. “Was he building up to the rape?” Ellie pursed her lips; he wasn’t really asking her. “Or was it after? He brought lube, so clearly this was thought out… we know he’s not an amateur, that’s for sure. There is no way this is his first victim.”

“But it could be his second.” Ellie murmured.

The D.I flicked his eyes upwards. “Miller, do you think Joe did this?”

“No.” She replied. “But I didn’t think he killed Daniel Lattimer until you told me.”

Sighing, Hardy leaned backwards, removing his spectacles so he could rub his eyes. “I can transfer you off this case, if you want.” 

“Not a chance in hell.” She retorted. “What are we making our top priority?”

“She’s not been reported missing, and the sexual nature makes the parents less likely.” He mused. “She’s probably a kid no one misses; homeless maybe? Let’s get her picture circulating the shelters.”

“What radius?” The D.S asked.

“England and Wales.” He said. “I don’t think this was the killer’s usual territory- he wanted notoriety. A bit of a copycat, but not all the way.” He stroked his beard. “He wants us looking here. Why here instead of his usual hunting grounds?”

“He wants us to think it’s Joe, maybe.” Ellie suggested.

Hardy froze with a hand on his beard. “Or he wants to one-up him.”

He dug through a pile of papers. “Get D.C….” He fumbled for a name.

“Wojciechowski?” Ellie supplied.

Her boss blinked languidly. “…Bless you?”

Miller deadpanned. “Don’t do that.” She scolded. “It’s not his fault he’s Polish.”

“That’s a name?” He asked incredulously.

Rolling her eyes, Miller left to fetch the officer without any further remarks.

He waved her out, but through the closed door, she could’ve sworn she heard her ex-husband’s name and something about Liverpool. Shrugging, she made her way back to her desk. After all, Alec would tell her instantly if he knew where Joe was, wouldn’t he?

* * *

Hardy was fourteen when he first heard the term passeggiata. He’d just started secondary in Glasgow, and there was a raven-haired foreign exchange student named Arnaldo Mancini, of all bloody things. He spoke perfect English, but often pretended to possess only the barest of grasp on the language when in the company of a pretty girl, so that they would fawn over him and offer to _tutor_ him. “In Sicily.” He had explained. “After we eat, we all were our finest clothes and walk about. Good for the body, good for the soul, eh?”

Because of the rising obesity rates, the headmistress declared that this was a fantastic way to get in their necessary exercise, and everyone just pretended it wasn’t because of the way Arnaldo had a tongue too smooth for any bloke in year eleven. So, after lunch period, everyone would go out in their uniforms, uncomfortable oxfords and all, and walk exactly two laps around the schoolyard before going back inside the windowless hellhole.

He’d hated Mancini. Hated the way every girl cooed at him and blushed in his presence, hated how all the guys seemed to think having a friend from the continent made them instantly well cultured. He’d hated that stupid parade they all made around the car park, and how no one else seemed to have knees that wobbled liked his when he stepped off the curb.

Right now, though, Alec was thankful for the term that swanky Italian bastard added to his lexicon.

“What are you doing that close to the edge?” Miller scolded.

Hardy figured he looked a right mess. Sitting with his legs hanging off the cliffside, he was still in his suit, complete with a tie. “Was having a passeggiata.” He replied. “Stopped to sit for a second.”

“Well stand up, will you?” She reprimanded. “And be careful, you could fall to your death!”

“Wouldn’t that be a relief.” He griped.

“Don’t joke about that.” Ellie’s voice was dark, coloured with equal parts anger and fear.

He didn’t apologize. After all, it hadn’t been a joke, not really. Instead, he slowly rose and limped a few steps back from the edge to stand by his D.S’ side. “I’d ask what you’re doing here.” He spoke, voice drawn with pain. “But I can only hope it’s not for the same reason I’m here.”

Miller felt her mouth go dry. “Were you going to-“ She gestured at the cliffside, unable to even say it.

“No.” He reassured. “Not tonight, not now.” _Not with a killer on the loose_ he thought. “It’s just… nice. Comforting, in a way.”

She stared over the grass, looking at the spot where a body had lain less than twelve hours ago. “You find it comforting to stare at the spot where Danny’s body was dumped?”

“I find it comforting to know this will come to an end.” He spoke, voice quiet. “I find it comforting to know nothing can last forever.”

She didn’t think they were talking about the case anymore. “Well.” She chastised. “You look like a creep sitting out here, all alone in a crumpled suit.”

“Oi!”

She glared at him playfully. “Next time you need a rest during your passa-whatever-“

“Passeggiata.” Hardy corrected.

“Next time you need a rest during a _passeggiata.”_ She said, emphasising the word with a bad Italian impression, “Come and rest on my couch so people don’t think you’re a weirdo.”

Hardy grimaced as he took another step. He was not looking forward to the two-mile, uphill trek back to his house. “Want a cuppa?” He offered plaintively.

She looked at her watch. “Sure, why not? My dad will be fine with the kids for a bit longer.”

When she took off towards the car park, Alec followed suit. They were silent until the car doors closed behind them. “I should apologize.” He sighed.

“No,” Ellie replied. “I should. I didn’t let you explain.” Turning the key in the ignition, she continued. “I looked up Ehlers-Danlos. Genetic disease, with a 50% chance of passing it onto a child.” She drove slowly, eyes flickering to Hardy. “That’s what you meant. Daisy has it. Tom said she used crutches at school sometimes. I assumed an injury, but that’s not it, is it?”

“Aye.” Alec murmured. 

“I also read somethings about cardiac issues in EDS patients.” She hated how clinical she sounded. Everything in medical journals was so objective, but sitting here, with her best friend and boss beside her, it was anything but. “And about the prospective lifespans for people with certain subtypes.”

He snorted. “If I had the vascular type, I’d be dead.” The D.I looked out the window solemnly. “I’ve got classical.” He admitted. “Just got unlucky with the mitral valve prolapse. Daisy gets a yearly echocardiogram, so if there is a problem hopefully, we can catch it before it becomes arrhythmia.”

“Good,” Miller replied. “It’s going to take both of us to catch the bastard who killed that girl.”

They were silent the rest of the drive, and both were soon tucking into a milky tea. “I think I might still have some biscuits.” Alec muttered, standing to dig through his barren cupboards.

“How’s that ankle holding up?” Ellie asked as her boss handed her a half-empty bag of stale biscuits. “And who eats plain digestives when they come in chocolate?”

Hardy crumpled his nose. “I don’t like chocolate.” He defended. “It’s far too sweet.”

“Of course, if there’s anyone who truly is a grumpy enough to dislike chocolate, it’s you.”

Hardy cracked a half-smile at this before sobering himself. “Press is going to go crazy tomorrow.” He took a sip of his rapidly cooling tea as he leaned against the counter. “Has your nephew contacted you yet?”

Ellie shook her head. “No, but he posted a picture of the police hullaballoo on twitter.”

Alec sighed. “Of course, he did.”

“We should talk to Mark and Beth tomorrow.” Ellie proposed. “As much as this seems to be separate from Danny’s case, they deserve to be kept up to date on the off chance it isn’t.”

_On the off chance it’s Joe_ hung in the air despite being unsaid.

“How did Tom take it?”

“Like shit.” Ellie snorted. “Wouldn’t even eat dinner. He’s scared, we all are.” She stirred her tea thoughtfully. “I think part of him still believes Joe is innocent.”

Hardy shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He said. “Perhaps a part of him hopes Joe didn’t kill Danny, but I believe deep down he knows the truth.”

Miller looked wistfully out the kitchen window. “I really hope so, Sir. I really hope so.”

Alec put down his cup of tea. “Miller- I should confess something.” 

“Oh, good timing,” She joked. “I’ve got my pen and pad in my bag.”

Hardy didn’t smile. “I have a tail on Joe.” He admitted. “Not officially, but I get weekly updates on his location.”

“Where is he?” She demanded.

He shook his head. “I’m not telling you that. No sense in you going to prison for murder.” He took another deep drink of his tea. “I’m going to talk to him tomorrow on my way back from Sandbrook.”

Miller was speechless. “What?”

“I’m just going to ask for an alibi.” He reassured.

“You’re going to go talk to Joe _alone?_ ” She asked incredulously.

Hardy sipped his tea again. “I’m just getting an alibi so we can rule him out. It will be a good reassurance for the community if we can honestly say we don’t suspect the case has anything to do with Danny.” 

“You’re suggesting we can’t say that now.” Ellie replied quietly.

Alec stared at his tea. “We can’t say anything right now.” He settled on. “We have no physical evidence, yet. If I can rule out the most insidious possibility…”

“What’s more reassuring?” Ellie quired. “That there’s one killer out and about or two?”

Hardy sipped his tea. “What’s more reassuring?” He replied. “A random psychopath on the loose or Joe being back in town?”

Ellie put down her mug with more force than necessary. “I’m ought to be getting back to my boys.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice quivered. “See you tomorrow.”

“Miller, wait.” He called. She paused and he took her silence as permission to continue. “Let me get my coat. Ankle’s being a bugger, not a chance I’m sleeping tonight. Let me go over the autopsy notes on your couch instead of mine. Perhaps that way you’ll actually get some sleep rather than spending the night staring at the ceiling.”

Ellie fiddled with her keys, weighing the options. “Fine.” she relented. “But if you fall asleep, I’m letting Fred draw on your face.”

They shared a smile before going out into the night together.


	3. Temperance (Reversed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for this chapter: A character experiences a brief, non-consensual touch of the thigh. Also semi-graphic depictions of violence and a resulting dislocation.

D.I Hardy practically launched himself out of his car as he pulled up next to Tess’s SUV in Doctor Walter’s parking lot. He’d lost track of time while picking at toast after he and Miller had talked to the Lattimers. He’d been looking at the autopsy report, the pictures blurring as the corpse began to look more like his Daisy did at that age. He opened the door of suite 12, frowning when he saw someone had graffitied the letter L in front of the number. “Ah, Alec!” An older man chimed jovially as he entered the small sitting area. “I told Daisy I’d wait for you here; let’s head back, Tess just got here.”

“Sorry I’m late.” Apologized when he saw the scowl on Tess’s face. “Traffic was bad.”

“Huh.” Tess replied. “Funny, because we came in from the east as well and it was smooth sailing.”

Daisy shot a look between them that screamed _not now._ “I’ll scoot over so you can sit.” She offered, moving closer to her mother.

Alec smiled. “Good to see you, Daze.” He murmured as he sat.

Daisy looked expectantly at her therapist, but he shook his head. “This is your story to tell, Daisy.”

She sighed before beginning. “I called Doctor Walters last night.” She explained. It had been at least two years since she last had to speak to him outside her monthly appointments, but she couldn’t shake what she told her father. “I just-“ She squeezed her eyes shut. “I regret what I said to you, Dad. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. It’s just.. easier, I suppose, to tell myself there’s someone to blame in all this. I used to shout at god, but when that didn’t work I guess I switched to you.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Alec reassured. “I wasn’t mad, just sad that you were feeling how you felt.”

“Mom, I’ve really enjoyed the past few years of living with you…” She started. “But I think I’m ready to live at dad’s. For real, this time. No more trying to run from my problems with constant train rides, you know?” She smiled sadly. “I think I need a bit of distance. Seeing you, knowing how you hurt Dad, it’s all a bit much. I love you, but I’ve realized you’re not the perfect woman who was deserted by a cheating bastard of a husband, and it’s difficult right not to see you in this new light.”

Tess looked expectantly at Doctor Walters. “And what do you think of this?” He’d been Daisy’s therapist since her EDS got truly bad four years ago. She trusted him.

“I think, if it’s what Daisy wants, you should let her stay with Alec.” He replied. “But for good, this time. She needs to be willing to stay until the end of the school year. Running away never solves anything.” He looked at the D.I hesitantly. “I can tell you’re not so sure.”

“You can’t live with me.” Hardy said sombrely. “Not yet, anyway.”

Daisy chewed her lip nervously. “I though you weren’t mad.”

“I’m not.” He replied. “I’d love for you to come back home with me, but not now.”

Tess looked at him quizzically. “Is this because of the sexual assault case you just wrapped up?” She asked bluntly. “Because I’m pretty sure those bastards aren’t getting out anytime soon.”

“No, it’s not about Trish’s case.” He replied. “Miller and I have a new case. I don’t think I’ll be home much the next few months.”

Tess snorted. “Typical. You’ve always been too busy to care about Daisy.”

Doctor. Walters glanced at Daisy, who looked like she wanted to do nothing more than disappear.

“I’ve spent all morning looking at the desecrated corpse of a young girl.” Hardy snapped icily. “Forgive me for not wanting my daughter to live in a place where two bodies have been found in the exact same spot, only four years apart.” His phone vibrated, and he read the text carefully.

 _Joe’s about to be on break_ it read. _You close?_

“Shite!” He cursed. Tess shot him a look. “I mean, uh, shoot.” He corrected himself. He wrapped an arm around Daisy, kissing her forehead softly. “Listen, I have to go.” He apologized. “I love you very much and I’ll call as soon as I can. Maybe tonight we can do one of those video chat things.”

Daisy smiled tearfully. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He left, punching out a quick reply.

_Be there in an hour._

“Alec, wait!” Tess called after him.

“What, Tess?” He replied, still walking to his car. “I have to go talk to a suspect.”

“I knew I recognized that pensive look.” She replied. “You’re going to talk to Joe Miller, aren’t you? Good to see you haven’t learned anything from Sandbrook.”

“Oh, good to see I didn’t learn anything from the case I _solved?’’_ Hardy snapped.

“Yeah, the one that _we_ solved.” Tess retorted. “And the one that almost killed you!”

Alec paused with his hand on the car door before turning around. “I used to envy you.” He spoke, voice low. “After Sandbrook, I envied how you moved on. Hell, I envied the fact that you could waste time fucking Dave _directly after_ viewing the corpse of a little girl!” 

“And now?” Tess replied. “Do you find yourself envious that I actually have a life outside work?”

“No.” He replied. “Now I pity you. Because you must live every day knowing you failed Pippa when you didn’t believe in me. You have to live knowing that my determination is what finally brought those bastards to justice.” He licked his lips. “So yes, maybe I am going to go talk to Joe. I don’t think he did this but if there’s even the slightest chance I can bring peace to the Lattimers while catching whoever killed this little girl, then I am going to chase it like you wouldn’t believe.” He opened the car door with more force than necessary. “That’s why I pity you now. You give up far too easily.” Entering the sedan, he drove off, leaving his ex-wife stunned in the parking lot.

* * *

“I’m looking for Joe Miller.” Alec told the manager of the docks.

“He just got back from his break.” The rotund man replied. “Oi, Joe! A suit wants to talk to you.”

As Joe entered, a look of terror crossed over his face. “Would you mind excusing us, Mr. Evans?” The D.I asked. “We’ll only be a few minutes.”

“What are you doing here?” Joe hissed. “I’m a free man!”

Hardy ignored the question. “Where were you Tuesday morning?”

“Why don’t you ask your tail?” Joe sneered. “Surely you don’t think I haven’t noticed being followed.”

“Your alibi, Joe.” Alec growled. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Or what?” The man replied. “You’ll arrest me? I’m sure your chief will love hearing you came all the way out here, unofficially, to follow a hunch.”

“Do you want me to come back officially?” Alec asked. “Because that would mean coming with Ellie, and I doubt you want to be beaten again.” 

Joe scoffed. “You wouldn’t put her through that.”

Hardy sat on the edge of the dock manager's desk. “You willing to test that theory?”

Joe scowled. “I was at home Tuesday morning.” He replied. “It’s my day off, I slept in.”

“Were you alone?” Alec asked.

“Take a guess, wise guy.” Joe sneered. “Women aren’t exactly clamouring for me around here.”

“Not like you’re exactly interested in women.” The D.I muttered.

Something in Joe snapped. His eyes darkened, and in an instant, he had Hardy pressed against a wall, a hand against the detective’s throat. “I suggest you don’t speak to me that way.”

“I suggest you remove your hand from me.” Alec growled, voice soft from restricted air. “Before I arrest you for assaulting an officer of the law.”

Joe smiled darkly. “There are no cameras in here.” He murmured. “It’d be your word against mine. You have motive to try and frame me, the case would fall apart in an instance.”

Alec swallowed, steeling his nerves. “There’s a window on the door. Someone could see.”

“And what? Assume that you’re in trouble?” Joe responded. “This is my domain, Hardy. They’ll take my word over yours any day.” He slid his free hand to the D.I’s thigh. He had gotten strong, working at the docks, and the other man knew struggling was fruitless. His hand roamed upwards, stopping just south of Hardy’s crotch. “They could think you asked for this.” He whispered.

Alec felt his heart clutch with pure, unadulterated panic. “Asked for wh-“

Joe cut him off with a quick succession of punches to the stomach. Then he backed away. “Relax, that’s it for now.” He strode to the door. “Just don’t think you have the upper hand here. I know you’d never come here officially, because then Ellie would hear about it.” He put a hand of the doorknob. “And I know, not once in a million years, would you let her see me face to face.”

The drive back was horrendous, and Hardy felt like his insides were gelatinous. What the fuck was he to make of what happened? What would Joe have done had there not been a window? He swallowed nausea at the thought. He drove on, trying to push the uncertainties from his mind, and was thrilled when he saw the office once again.

“Afternoon, Sir!” Ellie greeted him. She pushed a plate of toast in his face and he swallowed bile. The amount of pain he was in was not conducive to eating. One of his ribs has been dislodged when Joe punched him, causing a continual stabbing pain.

“Not hungry.” He grumbled, sitting down at his desk. He flipped through a new file on his desk. No DNA had been retrieved off the corpse, nor any fingerprints or hair. The lab had identified the lube as _No. 69_ from French company _électrifié._ He rolled his eyes at the corny name. There were only three stores that sold it within an hour’s car ride, so he’d get some D.C’s acquiring a list of recent buyers.

“How did it go?” Miller asked quietly, closing the door behind herself before sitting on the couch.

“Says he was home alone, asleep.” Hardy replied. He opened a desk drawer, looking for painkillers.

“Do you believe him?” Her voice was drawn.

“He didn’t say anything that seem to scream he was lying.” Alec answered, taking two naproxen from the bottle. He grimaced at the bitter aftertaste as he swallowed.

“And his body language?” Ellie prodded.

“Peculiar.” Alec responded, taking a swig of day-old tea.

After a pause, Ellie continued. “…You going to elaborate?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” He said cheekily. 

Ellie huffed, then bit her lip, eyes cast sadly downward. “I’m sorry.” She choked out. “I was just so worried and-“ She started to cry.

“Oh, Miller.” Hardy exhaled softly. He wrapped his arms around her gently.

Ellie grinned to herself and immediately hugged back, enveloping his torso in a vice grip. She slowly moved her hands upwards, stopping when her boss yelped like a wounded animal. “Ha!” She declared triumphantly. “I _knew_ you were hiding something.”

“Fucking hell.” He gasped, clutching his side. “I’m never falling for the waterworks act again.”

Miller snorted. “You said that two weeks ago when I pretended to have PMS so you’d buy me lunch.”

“Well, now I mean it.” He snapped. He stood upright from his hunched position, hissing when his ribs moved.

“Broken rib?” She guessed.

Alec gulped as the pain washed over him. “Bruised.” He insisted.

She raised an eyebrow. “Are we going to A&E before or after you give your statement?”

“Yeah, let me go get an X-Ray with a dislocated rib.” He snorted. “That won’t make anyone suspicious.” He shook his head. “I took an anti-inflammatory, I’ll be fine once those kick in.” He took another regretful swig of his cold tea. “And I’m not giving a statement.”

Ellies face fell. As much as she hated to see her boss in pain, if a few punches meant she could see her ex-husband in jail it was well worth it. “Why not?” Her voice was harsher than she intended.

“There’s no evidence.” Hardy told her. “No cameras, co- workers seem willing to take Joe’s side… I’d never win.” He looked down to the thigh Joe had caressed. “He’ll do something else illegal eventually.”

“Well, that’s a reassurance.” Miller snapped sarcastically. “Good to know you think my ex-husband is a danger to society!”

“Can we not do this now?” Alec pleaded. “There’s a dead child and we’re losing too much time to variables.”

“No, we are having this discussion now.” Ellie snapped. “I am not some damsel in distress, and you are certainly no white knight. I deserve to know what the fuck happened between you and Joe!”

“Ah, of course, I forgot, I’m the bad guy.” Hardy mocked. “Shame on me for trying to help you move on!”

“There is _no_ moving on from what Joe did.” Ellie spoke, voice trembling with rage.

Alec deflated. “You’re right.” He pushed his chair back. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you be drug into the past, either.”

“Sorry, Sir.” Miller apologized.

“I get it, you want him locked up for eternity.” Alec soothed. “Just don’t forget that I want that, too.” 

“We’ve got just under an hour until the press conference.” She spoke. “You going to be alright?”

“I’ve been dealing with this for years, Miller.” Alec replied icily. “I’d prefer if we focused on the case.”

Ellie sighed and sat down. “Fine, then.” She leaned against the back of the couch. “What are we going to tell people tonight then? Not like we have any leads.”

“Telling them that aside from location, there are no similarities between this case and Danny’s.” Hardy mused. “That should lower the hysteria at leas a li-“ He cut himself off as he turned to pick up a file. The wave of pain that washed over him from twisting his torso knocked the wind out of him. “Fuck.” He wheezed once he had managed to straighten himself out.

“Hm, I like the part about lowing public fear, but I think you should leave the almost passing out from pain part out.” Miller half-joked, half scolded. “You ready to admit I’m right and actually go to the hospital like a normal human being for once?”

Hardy grimaced. “I don’t need to see a doctor.” He replied, but even to his own ears it sounded weak.

“Then what do you need?” Ellie asked. “Ice? Heat?” 

Alec bit his lip and looked at the glass walls of his office with disgust. “Lying down would help.” He admitted. “You know this place better than I do; any quiet places come to mind?”

“Conference room D2.” She replied instantly. “It’s tiny and half the lights don’t work. No one in their right minds would willingly go there.” 

The D.I stood with a grimace and grabbed his coat from the rack in the corner of his office but didn’t put it on. “I take it from the name it’s on the second floor?”

“You’ve worked here for four years and you still don’t know your way around?” Miller scoffed.

“…I’ve been busy?” The excuse was bullshit, even to his own ears.

“Follow me.” Ellie instructed. They only had to go up one floor, and previously she would have just taken the stairs. Now though, with the drawn face of her companion, she wordlessly walked to the lift. After the short ride when they left, she turned down a side corridor and opened the door of the station’s shittiest conference room. As expected, it was empty except for a few chairs and a table that had a leg propped up by a copy of the yellow pages.

“Thanks.” Hardy grunted, rolling his jacket and placing it on the floor. Wordlessly, he laid himself down on the floor carefully, keeping the bad side up and lying sideways with his coat acting as a pillow under his waist. Gritting his teeth, he stretched the arm of his bad side up until it was above his head, forcing the abdominal muscles to stretch. A hiss of pain slipped out as the affronting rib shifted slightly.

“You okay?” Ellie asked quietly. The sight of her boss so vulnerable stirred an unpleasant fondness in her chest.

“Peachy.” Her boss retorted before screwing up his face in pain once more.

The D.S couldn’t find it in herself to be mad at the snarky reply. Instead, she sat down on the floor behind her friend. “Just breathe through it.” She instructed softly.

“M not in labour.” Hardy defended.

“Well, you sound like it.” Miller joked. When the only reply she got was a low, pained moan, she found herself even more worried. “Shhh.” She soothed, stroking his hair. “You’re alright.”

“ ‘S moving.” Hardy slurred. “Just pressin’ on a nerve.”

“Take a deep breath.” She told him softly. She took an exaggerated one herself, and Alec followed suit, albeit shakily. He looked a bit less pale, and after a few more shallow breaths he inhaled sharply and held his breath for a few moments, stopping after a hollow snapping sound reverberated in the small room. She frowned, concerned by the noise, but his body seemed boneless with relaxation. For a moment, she thought he might have passed out. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you.” Alec replied, feeling embarrassed now that the pain was gone. “It’s back in now, no worries.” He sat up, and his vision grew dark around the edges as he swayed a bit.

“Easy there, tiger.” Miller instructed. She pushed him back against the wall. “You were getting a little shaky there, why don’t you stay put for a minute and I’ll grab us some tea?”

By the time Ellie returned with two cups of PG tips, her boss was sitting in one of the hard-plastic chairs that surrounded the wonky conference table.

“Ta.” He muttered. Then, after she’d sat down, he continued. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” She quired. “Like you’re a knob?”

“Like I’m a wounded animal.”

She pursed her lips. “Oh, how _dare_ I show anything resembling care.”

“It’s not _care_.” Alec snapped. “I know this act, Ms. I-Hope-You-Choke-On-The-Seeds. You don’t care about me, you _pity_ me.” 

“I don’t pity you.” She retorted. “I worry about you!”

Hardy looked taken aback. “Why?” 

What Ellie meant to say was something equal parts mean and caring, like _well I don’t see anyone else around here to_ or some such blasé nonsense. A joke about her mother’s instincts would have been suitable, or even a simple acknowledgment of friendship. What came out, however, was what had been lingering around her consciousness for far too long.

“Because I love you, asshole!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah-ha! I do love a cliffhanger.  
> This is the end of what I had pre-written, so all future updates will be more spaced out. I hope you liked this one!


	4. The Hierophant (Upright)

Alec blinked. “Platonically, or?”

Ellie regained her composure quickly. Alec Hardy was frustrating enough as a co-worker already, never mind how awkward things would be if the feeling wasn’t mutual. “Of course.” She replied flippantly. “We’re friends, Hardy. What else would I be implying?”

“Course.” He mumbled, sitting up self-consciously. He straightened his crumpled shirt. “I better go find a tie before this press meeting.” He grumbled.

“See you in the morning.” The D.S responded. “I better go make dinner before Tom eats everything in the fridge.”

Hardy chuckled. “Oh, to have the metabolism of a teenager again.”

Miller snorted. “Awfully rich, coming from a bloke with the body fat percentage of a kite.”

“Oi!” He exclaimed, and they both laughed. Ellie sighed internally, happy her slip of the tongue seemed to be forgotten.

* * *

It seemed to Ellie that she was unable to get a moment’s rest anymore. As soon as she had sat on the couch with a stemless glass of pinot grigio, the doorbell rang. Huffing at the snoring form of her father in a recliner, she pulled her cotton flannel robe closer to her chest and opened the door. “You’re going to wake Fred.” She scolded, assuming it was her boss.

“Sorry.”

Miller did a double-take at the sight of Paul Coates, the local vicar, standing in her doorway at half-past ten. “Father Coates.” She greeted with surprise. “Sorry, wasn’t expecting you.”

The priest fiddled with a napkin wrapped object in his hand. “I know it’s late.” He said. “But I figured you’d want first crack at this.”

“What is it?” She asked, standing aside so he could enter.

“A letter, addressed to the people of Broadchurch.” Paul replied. “I thought they meant people as in congregation, so I opened it, but…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say.

Miller froze. “Can I see it?”

“Put gloves on first.” The vicar insisted. “I think it’s from the killer.”

* * *

Alec was there so quickly that Miller knew he’d been speeding. He looked a right mess, with crumpled suit and a tie so askew it might as well be a streamer. His skin was so pale it looked ashen and she could see his fatigue merely in the way his fingers fumbled whilst putting on gloves. She’d ditched her wine in favour of tea after the reverend seemed inclined to stay. She poured a cup for her boss and stirred some sugar in with the milk, even though he never took sweetener. He looked as though he needed the calories.

“Fucking narcissistic psychopaths and their bloody codes.” Hardy muttered. “Probably just a simple cipher or Poundland cryptogram.”

“You really think it’s going to be that simple?” Ellie quired. “Why would he bother encrypting a message, only for it to be easily solved?”

“Why send us a letter if he doesn’t want us to read it?” Hardy countered. “It’s for the pomp and circumstances, he wants to be the next Zodiac. He’s certainly not nervous about being caught, whoever it is.”

“Should I be worried?” Paul asked nervously. “What do I tell the congregation?”

Alec ignored him. “You got any cardstock around here anywhere, Miller?”

Ellie shot him a look and gestured at Father Coates.

Hardy took off his reading glasses and straightened up awkwardly. “I uh,” He stammered, rummaging his brain for the right sentence. “I wouldn’t be overly worried.” He struggled to find something reassuring to say. “We have no evidence that the killer is targeting adults.”

“You compare this murderer to the Zodiac Killer after he sends a letter to the Church and expect me not to worry?” The priest asked incredulously.

“…Yes?” The D.I replied sheepishly.

Miller rolled her eyes and shoved some brightly coloured paper into her friend’s hands. “Construction paper, sir.”

“Good, good.” He muttered, rummaging through her draws until he happened upon a pen. “I don’t want to wait until whatever hour the linguist rises.” He offered in way of explanation. “Got any of those little brass envelope thingies?” He made a vague hand gesture.

“A round head fastener?” She asked, already reaching into the bottom of the junk drawer to grab one. Having an idea where this was headed, she grabbed the scissors.

Hardy, having drawn two sets of circles with the letters of the alphabet on them, cut out the shapes and a hole in the centre of each before stacking them atop each other, using the fastener to secure them into a makeshift cipher disk. Muttering to himself while jotting down letters, after a minute Paul broke in. “R is equal to I.”

Hardy tested the theory on the first word. “How did you figure that one out?” He asked incredulously. “I wasn’t even halfway through testing.”

The reverend shrugged. “There are only two one-letter words, but you said he was probably narcissistic, meaning I is likely used a lot more than a.”

Hardy wrote down the message carefully in a messy scrawl and rubbed his hand over his face worriedly once he took in the meaning.

_To the people of Broadchurch:_

_Do not mourn the loss of the crimson girl; she was destined to be a harlot. You name your town after a place of worship, yet the only things you worship are the morals of the devil._

_As such, you have brought this upon yourselves._

_How, you might ask? You let Joe Miller go free._

_So not mourn the loss of the crimson girl, but rest assured, town of Broadchurch, there will be time for mourning anon._

_Levi_

_P.S Fear not, for this is not a threat. Rather, it is merely a promise. The killing will not stop until Joe Miller is behind bars, for hell seems too kind a place for a necrophiliac._

“Oh, god.” Miller gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. “This is my fault.” She choked. “That little girl is dead because of me.”

“Oh, Ellie.” The pastor comforted, pulling her carefully into a hug.

“This is not your fault.” Alec said quietly, though his undertone was furious. “We’re all at fault here. The lawyers, the judge, the jury. Me, for even letting you see Joe in the first place. And most of all, Joe and whoever this bastard is.” 

Something bothered Ellie as she wiped her eyes dry and looked once more at the message. There was a familiarity, not in the cadence or handwriting, but in the message itself. Like there was a piece of the language she’d heard before…. “Is that a cockroach on the windowsill?” She asked, pointing at a ledge that was completely clear of debris.

Paul frowned. “I don’t…” He stopped when Hardy scribbled something frantically across the discarded scrap of paper.

_Bugs?_ It read.

Ellie meekly nodded, and Alec turned to the vicar. “Thank you for your help, Father.” He spoke with forced nonchalance. “Would you like an escort back to the church.”

“No, thank you.” Paul replied.

“I’d like for you to come by the station to have your prints taken tomorrow.” Hardy replied.

The priest nodded. “I’m meeting with a parishioner at 10, so I’ll come by in the early afternoon.”

“Thank you for bringing this to me.” Ellie spoke. “But if you receive any future correspondences, please bring them to the station directly.” 

They bid the vicar goodbye, and Ellie spoke again. “Drink your tea.” She ordered. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

The D.I stretched his fingers. “Is your engine still making that skipping noise?” He offered, tilting his head to the letter. “I don’t mind taking a look at it, while I’m here.”

The pieces clicked into place for Miller then and there. Of course, merely a few days had passed since she’d told her boss she would catch the killer and that it was a promise, not a threat. Ellie thanked him and whistled a bit while her boss prodded round her car, going on with charade for as long as necessary. Alec had his hands gloved, and after poking the area behind the glove compartment, he pulled out a small microphone. “Shit.” She uttered and produced a small Ziploc bag from her robe.

Before placing it in the pouch for safekeeping, Alec brought it to his face. “Listen here, you wanker.” He grumbled with a low voice. “I am going to find you. Don’t think for one second, you’re ahead of us. I do have one piece of advice though: if you’re a redhead, dye your hair now. It’s going to clash with the orange jumpsuit you’ll be wearing for the rest of your days.”

Ellie couldn’t stop the smirk that anointed her face. D.I Hardy was back in action.


	5. The Star (Reversed)

When Ellie arrived at the station at 7 o’clock sharp, she was disappointed to see D.I hardy sitting at his desk already, still in the same suit he’d worn the day before. “Have you been here all night?” She scolded. He’d offered to drop the letter off and scan it for the forensic linguist to look at later, but she’d assumed he’d have the common sense to go home afterwards.

Alec looked up, surprised. “What are you doing in so early?”

“My Dad offered to get the boys ready for school.” She said nonchalantly. “And it is just past seven.”

“Shite.” Hardy mumbled.

“Gotten anything done?” She quired, sitting down on his couch. She eyed the bible on his desk curiously. “Have you been saying your prayers, or do you just have a ganglion cyst?”

He rolled his eyes fondly. The _I love you_ she uttered the other day still rolled in his head idly. Even if it wasn’t the love confession he was embarrassingly hopeful for, the knowledge that someone cared was still pleasant. “I think I have a hunch on the moniker our killer chose.” He spoke. “No way that was his birth name or even a nickname- he’s far too clever. There’s next to no evidence on the body, which requires a finesse not befitting a man who would just tell the police his name.”

“What if he’s really confident?” Ellie inquired.

Hardy, true to his nature, blatantly ignored the question, merely continuing on his train of verbal thought. “My first thought was perhaps a nod to the brand of denim hinting at an American killer, but the archaic language made me pause.” He pulled at the bible, flipping it open. “He thought the heart of Broadchurch was the parish, not the newspaper, so he’s obviously a highly religious man.” He flipped the pages before pointing at a book title.

“Leviticus.” She spoke. “So, the killer likes this chapter or…?”

“Or he wants us to look here.” Alec noted.

“What does he want us to gain from it?” She asked.

“No idea.” Hardy replied. “I was hoping you’d shine some light on it.”

“I’m going to need some coffee if you expect me to read the bible this early in the day.”

Hardy laughed. “Breakfast, then.” He offered.

She smiled. “Only if you’re paying.”

* * *

Ellie sat their food down at a window table. It was early enough that the café had yet to become packed, and she fancied the mundane escapism a meal out provided. She hadn’t eaten yet, so she got two Belgian waffles, complete with fresh strawberries, and a cappuccino to round off the meal. Hardy, after paying, sat down to tuck into his egg white omelette and a hearty cup of PG tips. 

Alec was the first to speak. “So, I was reading earlier about the over-arching themes of Leviticus and I-“

He was cut off by Ellie making a shushing noise. “We are in public.” She stressed. “The case can wait until we’re behind closed doors.”

Hardy huffed, but silently, he agreed. “I suppose you’re right.”

“How’s Daisy?” She asked.

“She wants to move back in with me.”

Ellie smiled. “That’s lovely! When are you expecting her?”

“I told her she couldn’t.”

“You _what_?” Ellie was shocked. Hardy loved his daughter more than every mortal pleasure in the world combined.

“I hate to break it to you, but there’s a killer on the loose.” Alec replied dryly.

Miller deadpanned. “Are you saying it’s not safe for my boys to be in Broadchurch right now.”

The D.I furrowed his brow. “You know if I thought that I would’ve told you right away.” He responded. When Ellie merely tilted here head with the same expression, her point clicked for Hardy. “…Oh.” He said simply. He inhaled and purposely took at stab at his omelette. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m not going to be home much.”

“She’s _seventeen_.” Miller stressed. “She won’t need a babysitter. Besides, maybe the independence will be good for her.”

“And if the media turns into a frenzy?”

The D.S pondered this for a moment while chewing. “Tell her to hit the bastards with one of her crutches.”

Hardy opened his mouth to retort, but they were cut off by the bell above the café door ringing, signalling the entrance of Beth Lattimer, who turned to walk towards them.

“God help us.” Hardy muttered under his breath.

“Beth!” Ellie greeted happily.

“Ellie, D.I Hardy.” She greeted in return. “How’s the case coming?”

Alec cut his co-worker off before she could speak. “You know we can’t talk about that, Mrs. Lattimer.”

Miller shot him a glare. “It’s going as well as something like this can.” She reassured her friend.

“I was thinking the other night, and…” She trailed off, composing herself. “Can you tell the girl’s parents that if they want to talk, I’m available? I know there’s nothing I can do to help them really, but….”

“We haven’t found the parents yet.” Ellie soothed. “But I’ll be sure to offer when we figure that out.”

“Miller.” Hardy warned. “Police confidentiality.”

“Sorry.” Beth apologized with a watery smile.

“There is nothing to apologize for.” Hardy surprised both the women. “You take care of yourself, alright Beth?”

She nodded. “Thank you both.” And with that, she left to order.

Miller remained silent until she had finished, and Hardy seemed to be done picking at his food. “Can we pop by the chemist of the way back?” She asked.

“Sure.” Hardy replied, wiping his mouth clean. “Ready to go?”

She nodded, and true to his word, her boss stopped the car outside the local mom and pop pharmacy. “I’ll just be a minute.” She said. “Need anything?”

Hardy waved her off languidly, feeling a bit tired now that he had eaten. “Nah.”

After her errand was run, they took the lift up to their floor, surveying the D.Cs that had begun to trickle in. “Briefing’s at nine.” Hardy barked. “If any of you have anything vaguely interesting for me to look at, it better be on my desk before 8:50.” He passed a brief glare over to the whiteboard. “There’s a dead child and yet I don’t see a list of local sex offenders and their locations up yet.” He scolded. “For the love of Christ, do your jobs here, people!”

Miller sat down at her desk, popping her messenger bad down on the floor. She did some brief googling of Leviticus, printed off the top ten quoted verses and their interpretations, and popped into Alec’s office, putting the paper on his desk. “Information on popular Leviticus verses.” Ellie spoke.

“Miller, you left the document name on it.” Hardy replied, glaring at _BibleShitForShitface.docx._

“Must’ve been an accident.” She responded, hiding a smirk. “And I brought you this.” She pulled the bag from the chemists from the pocket of her slacks. “Arnica cream. It’s supposed to be good for bruises.”

Alec looked up sharply. “I’m fine.” He insisted. 

“Can you not be a knob _just once?_ ” She complained. “I’m trying to help.”

“No, you’re insinuating I’m a poor little puppy who can’t take care of themself!” Hardy retorted.

“Well, maybe you can’t!” Ellie snapped. “Maybe you think you have it figured out because you can take care of Daisy, but you don’t take half the precautions she does!”

“Don’t you dare.” He hissed. “Don’t you fucking dare bring my daughter into this. And don’t you dare try and disguise your pity as compassion!”

“Oh, because that would be a fate worse than death, wouldn’t it?” Ellie shot back. “How dare someone figure out that you’re actually a human! You hide behind this uncaring jerk face so no one can ever get close to you, so you won’t know what it like’s to lose someone! That’s what this is, isn’t it? All this worst cop in Britain assholery is just so no one will ever dare to look beneath the surface! You’re a coward, Alec Hardy. You’re a bloody coward.”

“Get. Out.” He demanded. When she didn’t move, he raised his voice again. “Get out now, or you’re fired!” 

“Well fine!” She yelled back. “Have fun solving this murder without me, then. I quit.” Spinning on her heel, she left in a haste, ignoring the faces of her shocked coworkers as she ran down to the carpark.

Opening her car door, she was overtook by sobs. How the _fuck_ was she going to fix this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody! Thank you so much for all the feedback and lovely comments! I am going to keep updating this as frequently as possible, but it may take a bit longer as Uni starts for me this Monday and I'm going to have a bit less free time. Thank you for your patience ahead of time, -Skye


	6. The Lovers (Upright)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Smut  
> Also, as of posting, this chapter is largely unedited, as for some reason I decided taking an extra class was a brilliant idea this semester and now free time is put a hazy memory.

Alec waited fifteen minutes before making his way down to the car park, where he knew Ellie would still be.

“What are you doing here?” Miller asked indignantly. “Haven’t you ever heard of a thing called privacy, you creep?”

Hardy ignored her outburst as he sat in the passenger seat next to her. “You’re wrong.” He said.

“And you’re absolute rubbish at comforting people.” Ellie snapped, wiping her eyes dry with the collar of her blazer. 

“You’re wrong.” Alec insisted, glossing over the snarky comment. “I don’t push people away so I don’t get hurt. I push people away so _they_ don’t get hurt when I inevitably explode.”

“Gee thanks, so you’re an asshole for my own good, is that it?” Ellie replied sarcastically.

“My aorta could dissect at random.” He explained quietly. “I could catch my wrist on a cabinet hinge and bleed out in minutes. I could go to sleep and internally decapitate myself by turning my head wrong in my sleep.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t have to worry about my death if I know there’s no one out there depending on me or waiting for me to come home at night.”

“You absolute wanker.” Ellie shot back. “You cannot be a jerk to everyone just in case a one percent chance comes true.” She turned to look at him with red-rimmed eyes. “And you cannot choose who relies on you, or who loves you.” 

Hardy looked at her and made a split-second decision, and kisser her, hard. It wasn’t the soft, gentle kiss he’d imagined many a lonely night. It wasn’t the romantic, impassioned fantasy he’d been dreaming of, or even the chaste, awkward kiss he’d been worried about. It was tongue and teeth battling, hands clutching each other’s head in a reckless desire for dominance, something more akin to an argument than a poem.

“I know you don’t choose who you love.” He muttered huskily. “I’ve known that since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Alec.” She murmured breathlessly; head tilted back in ecstasy as he pressed a kiss to her throat.

“Miller.” He responded. She responded by biting the side of his neck. “Ow!” He exclaimed, clamping a hand down over the wound to check for blood. “The hell was that for?”

“If we’re going to snog like teenagers.” She replied. “You’re going to call me Ellie.”

Hardy grinned. “I can do that.”

Ellie smiled back at him. “I take it I’m re-hired, then?”

“Oh, you were never fired in the first place.” Alec replied playfully. “That would require me actually listening when you talk.”

“Oi!” She laughed, and they made their way out of the car, hand in hand.

* * *

They untangled their fingers from each other’s grasp as they left the lift, eager to maintain professionalism in front of their coworkers. “Here’s a list of convicted sex offenders within 100 miles.” A D.C offered Hardy.

He gazed at the pages quickly. “Look up the victim’s age and hair color.” He replied. “The killer referred to the victim as _the crimson girl_ ; that might have been a reason he chose her.” He handed the file back. “Get alibis from anyone who was convicted for either pedophilia or an assault against a redhead. If anyone has done both, or assaulted a redheaded child, let me know ASAP.”

The junior officer nodded, scampering off to dig up the charges against every offender. “Is anyone here familiar with Leviticus?” Ellie asked. “D.I Hardy has a suspicion it may be the root of the killer’s chosen moniker.” 

“My father was a priest.” A detective called from the edge of the room.

“I want a rundown of common themes and the most popular verses on my desk before 8:30.” Hardy ordered. “Miller, call the linguist and see if he got the email I got. If not, fax it to him.”

She blinked. “We don’t have a fax machine.”

“Well, if he hasn’t gotten the email or won’t pick up the phone, I suggest you _find_ a fax machine.” He retorted.

“Oh right,” Ellie replied sarcastically. “I’ll just pop round the corner to the year 1985.” Alec shot her a glare and she chewed her lip. “Sorry, sir.” She apologized. “I’ll go call Dr. O’Doherty.”

“Maybe you should ask him where he keeps his pot of gold.” An officer chortled from the corner of the room.

“There is a dead child.” Hardy scolded. “Don’t forget that, D.C…” He trailed off unable to recall the man’s name.

“Wojciechowski.” He supplied.

Alec blinked. “And you think you’re in a position to mock someone’s surname?”

Ellie snickered. For how bitchy her boss was, he sure did have a decent comeback. She walked to her desk and picked up her work cell. Time to harass a forensic linguist.

* * *

When Ellie was done rousing Doctor O’Doherty from his slumber, she noticed her phone had a text notification.

 _D2?_ It read. She smiled when she saw it was from Alec. They had just about an hour until the briefing, and she wondered what he wanted to talk about now. It seemed to her they could get a lot more done if they spent their work hours working and their off-duty hours bickering, instead of visa versa.

“For the record.” She spoke as she entered the conference room. “I don’t have sex at work.” She looked up and saw her boss was shirtless with his arms crossed in front of his torso. “Oh.” She said.

“That’s not what this is.” Hardy responded. He looked awkwardly down at his shoes. “I was just wondering if you could put some of that cream on my back. The damn rib is making moving my arm hurt like a bastard.” Moving his arms out of the way of his ribs, Miller gasped when she saw the purple bruising enveloping Alec’s torso.

“Oh, my god.” She murmured, reaching out to touch his chest gently. His torso was covered in bruises, fresh and old, that ran the gamut from dark purple to green. A few blood vessels had burst, leaving clusters of red splotches scattered about. “Oh, Alec.” 

“It’s fine.” He reassured. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

As Miller gazed at the abuse painted across her bosses’ skin, her voice went dark with rage. “How many times did that bastard hit you?” She couldn’t even stand to say her ex-husband's name.

Alec tilted his head, puzzled. “I didn’t exactly count.” He said. “Why?”

She took the medicinal cream from his hand and put some on her fingertips. “So, if I ever see him again, I know how many bullets to put in his back.”

Alec chuckled, though he was unsure if she was truly joking. “I bruise easily.” He reassured. “It’s nothing worth getting upset over.”

“I still don’t know how I didn’t see it.” She murmured dejectedly. “All those years and I never had even an inkling of doubt. Each night, before I sleep, I pick two or three memories and try to comb through them to see if there was something I missed, something that now, in hindsight I should have seen then, and-“ A sob bubbled in her throat.

“Oh, Miller.” Alec reassured, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. “There’s no way you could have seen it. There’s no way anyone could have seen it. You were _manipulated,_ Ellie. You’re a victim of Joe’s, too. Don’t forget that. You are blameless, the only guilty one is him.”

“I don’t feel like a victim.” She replied. “I feel far too angry to be called something that docile. I just keep thinking that if I’d noticed something sooner Danny might still be alive.”

“Do you blame me?” He asked, taking one hand from her shoulder to brush a stray curl from her face. “I sat across the table from a killer with no shield of intimacy distorting my vision and yet I didn’t see it.”

“Of _course_ not.” She replied. “There was nothing that would have tipped you off. Besides, you hardly spent any time with him.”

“I think he tried to kill me.” Hardy admitted.

Ellie’s eyes flickered to his bruised torso. “Today at the docks?”

Alec pursed his lips and shook his head. “At dinner, that night.” He replied. “You’d gone to put Fred to bed, and he kept pushing the wine.”

The D.S felt her brow furrow. “We all drank that wine, there’s no way he could have poisoned it.”

“Miller, he started trying to convince me to have more wine _after_ he noticed my fingers.” He replied. “He’d noticed the hypermobility, and it was cold enough my fingertips were blanched. Being an EMT he probably guessed Postural Tachycardia and thought enough alcohol could kick me into hypovolemic shock. Either that, or he noticed from the way I carried my left arm that I’d had recent chest pain and guessed mitral valve prolapse. Either way, an overindulgence of wine would have been a quiet way to off me.”

“My god.” She whispered. She let her head fall forward until it touched Alec’s bare collarbone. She took a deep, cleansing breath before continuing. “Will we ever be free of these memories?” 

Alec exhaled heavily, wincing as his abused rib protested. “I don’t think they’ll ever go away.” He murmured. “When I hear a river, I still feel Pippa against my chest.” He closed one arm around Elle, gently lifting her face skywards with the other hand. “But the new memories will weigh down the old, compressing them into something far less painful.”

“Perhaps we should make some new memories.” Ellie replied huskily, letting her hands touch Hardy’s bare chest softly, avoiding the worst of the bruises. She caught his lips in a gentle kiss, and his hands dropped to her waist.

“I thought you don’t have sex at work.” Alec teased.

“Every rule has an exception.” She retorted as he pressed a kiss to her neck.

The D.I dropped a hand her ass, squeezing gently. “I can’t have a D.S break a rule on my watch, even if it’s self-imposed.” 

“I suppose not.” She replied, feeling slightly rejected.

Hardy pressed another soft kiss just below her ear. “Does your moral rulebook say anything about getting eaten out at work?” He asked cheekily.

“Fuck no.” She gasped as his hands found her way to the button of her trousers. In a fluid motion, her slacks her round her ankles and she found herself blushing. “If I’d have known this was on the agenda, I would have worn nicer knickers.” She apologized. 

“Shut up.” Alec commanded, playing with the loose elastic before pulling them down.

She hoisted herself onto the conference table, opening her legs wide. When Hardy began to kneel, she frowned. “Think of your poor knees.” She scolded. “Pull up a chair like a civilized human being.” 

“What’s next, making me eat pussy with a knife and fork?” He replied satirically.

There was a sarcastic reply in the back of Miller’s throat, but all that came out was a breathy moan as Hardy closed his mouth around her cunt. “Oh, Fuck.” She purred, grasping the table edges in ecstasy.

Alec hummed a low praise as his tongue lapped gently around her pussy, a hand rubbing soothing circles on her thigh while the other fumbled with the button of his own trousers. He worked in languid motions, flicking his tongue up her clitoris before licking down to her entrance. “You’re so perfect.” He murmured, hardly bothering to pull off completely.

“Shut up and keep going.” She instructed as her toes curled.

Hardy laughed, and the reverberations felt heavenly. “You’re a bossy one.”

“And you’re- Oh fuck!” She broke off in glee as he sucked ever so gently on her clitoris. God, when even was the last time she got off? There always seemed better things to do, be it cleaning or working on a case or-

Her train of thought was halted by Hardy pulling back reluctantly. “I’m doing what I ridiculed Tess for.” He said, horror softening his voice.

“Cheating?” Ellie asked with a frown.

“There’s a dead girl, and I’m-“ He stopped, looking down at his erection with shame, watching it go flaccid before his very eyes.

Ellie paused, and hopped off the table. “Hey.” She comforted. “It’s a down moment, you’re not transporting evidence or anything nearly that time-sensitive.” She picked up her discarded knickers and trousers.

“Miler- _Ellie_.” He corrected himself. “I didn’t mean to… We can keep going, if you’d like.”

She smiled softly. “Nonsense. If you’re not in the right headspace for this, then it can wait.” She dressed carefully. “Now, let’s get that arnica cream on your bruises.”

“You’re not upset?” He asked, shocked.

“Of course not.” She replied. “Why would I be? There will always be another day. Besides, you have a point.”

Alec blinked as if he did not quite believe it. “But I thought…” He trailed off. “Never mind.”

Ellie put a bit of arnica cream on her fingertips as she gently wiped it over the worst of Hardy’s bruises. “Finish your sentence, love.” She instructed. “I want to know what’s rattling around that head of yours.”

“It’s nothing.” He insisted. “Just, Tess would complain if I weren’t in the mood. You know how it is, guys are supposed to be pretty enthusiastic about that kind of thing and I wasn’t sure you’d take my sudden change of heart as rejection.”

“Alec Hardy.” She scolded. “If you ever wrong me, rest assured that I will let you know. I don’t tend to keep my opinions to myself.”

Hardy laughed at that, cutting it off with a wince as Ellie pressed on a particularly tender spot. “Oh, by the way, nice sex hair.” He teased.

“Nice hickey.” She countered, watching as he tried to contort himself into viewing his own neck.

“I suppose I should go see what the D.Cs have drug up on our killer before the briefing. I’ll talk to you later.” He said after turning the collar of his shirt up.

“I should see if Doctor O’Doherty has any preliminary thoughts.” Miller smiled. “See you later, D.I shiteface.”

Hardy laughed, then straightened his face. It was time to catch a killer.


	7. The Devil (Reversed)

It had been nearly three days since the body was found, and still there was no concrete evidence. Three different people had purchased the lube found on the body in cash within ten miles of the crime scene, and that store didn’t have a single security camera. The twenty-something employee at _The Treasure Trove_ admitted to smoking marijuana before every shift, and thus couldn’t even remember what he’d had for breakfast, making the interview decidedly unhelpful.

It was nearing 11pm, and Hardy was still at the office. He’d sent Miller home ages ago to feed her boys, and by now even the loneliest of D.C’s had left. Stretching idly, Alec retrieved his suit jacket from the coat hanger in his office and made his way to the elevator. After making it down to the car park, he surveyed the graffiti collection that seemed to grow each day. Last week it was a penis wearing a badge, some Panic! At the Disco lyrics a fortnight before, and now a trio of 21’s around parking space L.

Hardy yawned, rubbing at his eyes. The idea of going back to his lonely, dark house atop the cliffside didn’t feel very appealing, but he needed sleep. He took a deep breath to alert himself and got into his car carefully. His ribs still hurt like a son of a bitch, and the bruising was turning an aubergine colour so deep that it looked black under most lighting. He was trying to be somewhat careful with himself, as he still wasn’t certain none of his ribs were cracked. Easier said than done, though, he mused.

The drive home was the mindless one that’s not meditative, but rather has you pulling into the driveway with little recollection of having done so much as pressed the gas pedal. Alec looked up at the stars briefly as he exited his sedan, examining the upside-down winged horse that sat carefully above Capricorn. Daisy had loved the constellation Pegasus as a child- her horse and astronomy phases happened simultaneously at the age of eight, so it made sense, and on clear nights like this he could look at the stars and almost hear his daughter carefully reciting the names of the square body. “Scheat, Alpheratz, Markab and Algenib.” He murmured carelessly to himself, allowing him a moment to be lost in the nostalgia.

“Epsilon Pegasi is the nose, the brightest one of all.” A voice continued softly from the darkness.

“Jesus fucking-“ He spun around, hands desperate to land on some sort of weapon.

“Relax, Dad.” The voice said, “It’s just me.”

“Daisy.” He sighed, a hand on his thumping chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

His daughter’s eyes darkened. “Don’t joke about that.”

Alec didn’t answer that, instead asking, “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” She chuckled humourlessly.

Alec deflated. “Come on in and have a cuppa.” He responded. “Does your mum know you’re here?”

“I left a note on the fridge.” Daisy replied. After a pointed glare, she sighed. “I’ll send her a text, though.” They went in, and Alec noted the crutches propped up against the kitchen counter. She seemed to be walking alright without them now, but clearly, she was tired.

“Sit down.” He ordered softly. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

She was wearing shorts and an oversize Uni sweatshirt he recognised as Tess’, and she stifled a yawn. “Oh, and I brought in the post.”

Hardy blinked slowly, surprised. “I thought today was Sunday.”

Daisy exhaled so sharply it might have been a laugh. “It’s Saturday, D.I Shiteface.”

“Ellie told you about that?” He groaned.

“Oh, she’s gone from _Millah_ to Ellie now, has she?” 

“Shut up.” He grumbled, lighting the burner beneath the kettle.

He looked at her, trying to guess what the instigating factor for her sudden arrival was. “You could just ask, you know.” She scolded.

Hardy rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Speaking out loud again, was I?”

Daisy laughed shortly. “I’m the daughter of two cops, it’d be awkward if I didn’t know what that pensive look meant.”

Alec flicked the kettle off as soon as it started to whistle, impatient. “You’re still going to make me say it out loud, aren’t you?”

“Sure am.” She responded cheekily.

“Daisy, my lovely, fantastic daughter.” He spoke. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

She took the proffered cup of camomile tea. Her smile faded and she took a steadying sigh. “Turns out you can’t outrun photographs in the internet age.” She spoke morosely. “Not that me and my extra legs can outrun much,” She nodded to her sticker-anointed crutches. “But I sort of thought maybe those images would stay in Broadchurch.”

Hardy felt a wave of pure anger run through him. “Those _bastards.”_ He hissed. He circled the kitchen peninsula to hug his daughter. “I’ll bring everyone who has that image saved into the station for possession of child pornography.” He swore.

Daisy shook her head. “It’s fine, Dad.” She gave him a firm squeeze, intending to let him go, but he yelped in pain and she looked up frantically. “What is it?” She demanded, pulling back to look at him.

“Popped a rib out a couple days ago.” Alec defended, holding on to the countertop so firmly his knuckles were white. His vision was blackening at the edges, so he slid down to the floor carefully.

“There’s no way.” Daisy insisted, crouching down to her Dad’s new level. “Ribs hurt like a bitch but you’re acting like you were fucking shot.”

Hardy glanced at his daughter, debating whether to correct her language. With the pressure off his ribs, the pain receded quickly, and he stood, offering a hand to his daughter. “I’m alright.” He insisted. “I just have some bruising, honestly Daze.”

“You’re not helping me up.” She insisted. “Hand me my crutches.”

Rolling his eyes, the D.I did as he was told, knowing better than to argue with a teenager at this hour if he desired any sleep at all. “Here.”

Bustling through the cabinets, he tried to see if Ellie had finessed off the last of the digestives. “You gonna tell me exactly what happened that had you dislocate a rib and left you with bone bruising?” Daisy questioned.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Hardy replied, opening another cabinet in his search for something edible. 

“Well, that’s not concerning at all.”

Alec froze. Time to make something up, and quick. “It’s embarrassing.”

Daisy groaned. “Do not tell me this is a sex injury.”

“What? No.” He defended. “I fell.”

Daisy frowned. “On a case?”

Oh boy. This was a fight for the ages- Daisy loved to bring up how protective he was of her, while in her words he was careless with his own health, always risking everything for the next case. “No.” He lied, pulling a box of stale saltines out. “I fell getting out of bed. Happy? I was half asleep and tripped over me own feet.”

Daisy laughed. “Oh, that’s a story mum will love.”

Hardy cracked a smile. “You want some cheese with those? I think I have some camembert.”

Daisy nodded. “I’m starving.” She glanced at the time, then the telly. “Bake-off re-runs?” She asked hopefully.

He nodded. “Be right there.” He said, placing the aforementioned cheese on the counter. He picked up the post, frowning when there was a letter with no return address. The envelope was red, and when he opened it, a jumble of letters stared at him.

RNL OHCMEH ZRP EHZE WHLCNR ENDX XH UNKH; GNL XMC GZDXHL ZRE GNL XMC KNDXHL XH ENDX RND EHGMBH XMKCHBG;

As he read, dread filled his chest, doubling when he translated what it said.

“Dad?” Daisy asked.

“Grab your purse.” He ordered. “We’re going over to the Miller’s.”

“Why?”

“Because.” He replied. “I’m not leaving you alone, and I need to go tell Ellie that I know the killer’s motive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer to the cryptogram will be in the next chapter, but as Uni has me too busy to write I thought a puzzle would help keep the boredom between chapters at bay! It is a cryptogram, not a cipher, and your hint is that W = P. I also updated the projected number of chapters as I realised I was not going to be able to wrap this up in one more chapter, especially short ones like this. Let me know what you think- do you prefer shorter chapters more often, or should I push back updates until I can write at least 3k words or so? Anyways, I'm off to finish an annotated bibliography for a paper containing sources mainly in a language that is not native to me, so I must bid everyone a lovely day and a very safe and happy autumn. -Skye


	8. The Tower (Upright)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Did anyone solve the cryptogram? If not, don't worry- it's revealed in this chapter. Happy reading!

Frantic knocking awoke Ellie from her slumber, and she opened the door to find a wild-eyed Hardy. She opened her mouth to scold him, but he brushed past her in a frenzy. “I’ve got a note from the killer!”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, I definitely wasn’t sleeping.” Ellie replied sarcastically. She gave a thoughtful smile when she noticed Daisy stood behind her father. “Hello, Daisy.”

“Sorry for the rude awakening, Ms. Miller.” Daisy said ruefully. “You know how he gets.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, it’s Ellie.” She insisted. “Want a cuppa? I think I’m going to need the caffeine to deal with D.I shiteface.”

Daisy giggled. “That’d be great.”

“We done fraternizing?” Alec snapped, pulling out the latest correspondence with a gloved hand.

Ellie cocked an eyebrow. “I suppose since you didn’t wake Freddy I can let you off with a warning.” She said, walking back to the kitchen. Filling the kettle, she switched the stove on and watched as Hardy waved the encoded message around to get her attention. Squinting, she examined it without touching, so as not to soil it. “Is that another bloody cryptogram?”

“Sure is.” Alec replied.

“And what, our murderer just told us his motive in it?”

“It’s a bible verse, Miller.” Hardy said, practically giddy with excitement. “A bible verse from Leviticus, like we were thinking earlier. It’s 21:11.”

Ellie frowned. “Can’t say I learned that one in Sunday School.”

“It’s an anti-necrophilia verse.”

“That explains why.” She mused, opening the fridge to gather sandwich ingredients. Tom was always eating, and she figured Daisy’s appetite was much the same. “So, what, he committed the murder just to desecrate the corpse as a way of telling god to shove it?”

Daisy paled, finally jumping in on the conversation. “You’re working a necrophilia case?”

Hardy sighed. “There _was_ a reason I wanted you to stay at your Mum’s, sweetheart.” He put the Ziploc bag containing the evidence back in his chest pocket. “A damn good reason too.”

Daisy rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness in the motion.

The kettle whistled, and Ellie poured three cups of tea, pressing a freshly made sandwich into Daisy’s hand. “Here you are.” She said. “I’ll deal with your dad, why don’t you go sit on the couch for a bit? I’ve got Netflix set up on the telly.”

“I’ll carry that for you.” Hardy offered, grabbing a mug and the sandwich, nodding towards the crutches leaning again the counter when Miller gave him a confused look.

Ellie blushed. “Sorry about that.” She apologized. “It’s a bit late for me to be thinking, I guess.”

Daisy smiled. “I’d rather someone forget I’m disabled than have it be the only thing they know about me.”

The teen left, her father padding beside her. Miller opened a cabinet next to the window and pulled out a bottle of aquavit, pouring a heaping shot into her chamomile. “Want some?” She offered Hardy as he re-entered.

Alec crinkled his nose. “I’d rather not ruin my tea by making it taste of liquorice.”

Miller shrugged. “Suit yourself. So, what exactly does Leviticus 21:11 read?”

Alec pulled the makeshift evidence bag from his pocket and cleared his throat before putting on what was probably supposed to sound like a surrey accent. “Nor beside any dead person doth he come; for his father and for his mother he doth not defile himself.” He took a sip of his near-boiling tea, as if the horrible attempt had left him parched. “I think that’s why he thigh fucked her, Miller.”

She gave him a pointed glare.

“I mean, that’s why I think he thigh fucked her, _Ellie_.” Hardy corrected. “I think he raped her, then killed her, then thigh fucked her to prove he wasn’t a necrophiliac.”

Ellie swallowed a lump in her throat. “Oh, god.” Then, after a pause and a long sip of her now _very_ relaxing tea. “Why dump her in that spot, then?”

Hardy tilted his head, thinking. “Maybe he thinks Joe is a necrophiliac?” He scratched his chin; the stubble was driving him crazy; he really needed to shave. “It’d be a fairly logical assumption, being a paedophiliac motivated murder and all. Maybe he thinks the papers kept the worst details private.” 

Ellie sighed. “We should go into the office.” She took another swig of her drink. “We need to catalogue this evidence and update the profiler with the content. We could have the linguist look at it to see if the version of the bible he quoted from is indicative of any area or denomination and start inform everyone to start viewing this as a mission- oriented killing rather than merely a copycat.”

Hardy shook his head. “It’s late, you shouldn’t leave your boys.” He insisted. “Besides, you’re already in that incredibly sexy nightgown-“ Miller rolled her eyes, viewing the oversized Manchester jersey she was currently wearing. “-and I think you should be on alert.” He admitted. “I don’t like the idea of you out after dark right now, not with all that’s happening.”

Ellie sighed. “I know you’re right.” She relented. “But I feel like you’re going to work yourself to death, and that’s not an exaggeration.”

Hardy offered a tense smile. “I’ll be okay.” He reassured. “Let me grab you something from my car before I go, though.”

He left, and Miller eyed the bottle of aquavit she’d left on the counter before shrugging and pouring another healthy dose into her mug. Suddenly, Alec returned and placed an object on her counter. “A _gun?”_ she hissed. “You think what I need in this house with three children is a _gun?”_

“Daisy and Tom are hardly children.” Hardy insisted. “And you can’t tell me you feel 100% safe right now. I thought you’d appreciate some protection.”

Ellie sighed, and made sure the safety was on before tucking it into her robe pocket. “Go before I use this on you.” She joked.

Alec nodded, putting his hands in his pocket before muttering something.

“What was that?” She asked.

“…Can I kiss you goodbye?” He asked sheepishly, keeping his voice down so as not to be overheard by Daisy.

Ellie stride over and pressed an open mothed kiss to his lips. “There.” She said. “Now go get this killer, you twat.”

* * *

The office was deserted, and Hardy tried not to feel uneased by it as he took a sip from the thermos of tea Ellie had packed him. The latest message had him thinking of the insidious connotations of the 21’s he’d seen graffitied around parking space L, and he made a mental note to check the security cameras, though he knew that parking space was out of sight of them all, hence why it being graffitied wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Dropping the evidence bag off with the CSI’s, he made his way to his office and sent out an email to the officers assigned to the case before googling the verse word for word to figure out what edition it came from.

After two hours reading about the Young translation that the killer had quoted, his cell phone rang. “D.I Hardy.” He quipped.

“This is Harlow.” A gruff voice responded. “Look, I don’t know exactly what happened, but Joe Miller is gone.”

“The fuck do you mean he’s gone?” Hardy demanded. “Surely he didn’t vanish out of thin air!”

“You’re closer than you think.” Harlow insisted. “I think he was kidnapped.”

Hardy ended the call, furious. Opening messages, he thought of texting Ellie, but what would he say? He couldn’t report it so he could bring backup; the information was obtained through his not-exactly-legal tail, and he’d risk losing his job if that came out. It wasn’t like he was popular around here. Shoving his phone into his pocket and tossing on his suit jacket, Alec headed back down to the parking garage. It was time to drive to Liverpool.

* * *

After circling the block Joe lived on thrice, Alec was only more concerned. Joe’s car was still parked, his house lights were off, and the telly was off, which Harlow said proved that Joe wasn’t sleeping. After telling Harlow to get lost, Alec drove around to all the convince stores and bars still open with a picture of Joe, asking if anyone had seen him that night. When everyone shook their heads, Alec decided to try the docks- perhaps Joe had merely gone into work late (or early? It was into the wee hours of the morning, now) and had carpooled.

Pulling up to the docks, Alec pulled behind a warehouse, and made sure his doors were locked before striding towards the building Joe worked in. The place was dark, except that a light was on in the manager’s office. Knocking on the door, Alec spoke up. “Mr. Evans?” He called. “It’s Alec Hardy, from the other day. Joe Hardy has gone missing and I’d like to-“

The door swung open, but it was not the round sea-haggard face of Mr. Evans that greeted him. Instead, before him stood a tall, lanky man in his forties.

“Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” The man purred.

And then, with the swing of a wrench, Alec Hardy was thrown into unconsciousness.

* * *

Ellie bustled into work, greeting the half dozen co-workers who’d also come in early. “Hardy said what time the brief is?” She asked Belinda from two desks across.

“I haven’t seen him.” Belinda replied. “Don’t think he’s been in yet, his car’s not in the parking lot.”

Miller froze, a feeling of panic overtaking her. Frantically grabbing her cellphone, she selected Alec from her contacts and pressed the phone to her ear. When the device clicked, she spoke up instantly. “Alec?”

“Sorry.” A deep voice chuckled. “D.I Hardy can’t come to the phone right now. He’s a little tied up.”

Ellie felt herself pale as Belinda asked her if she was okay. “Call the C.S” She whispered, covering her microphone. “Hardy’s been kidnapped.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, is this potentially the cheapest plot twist ever? Yes. Do I love it nonetheless? Oh HELL yes.


	9. Death (Reversed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice: This chapter contains graphic violence.

When Alec came to, the first thing he felt was the searing pain of handcuffs biting into his wrists. The second thing was the metallic scent of blood.

The third he was aware of was Joe Miller’s face staring at him from across the room.

Joe Miller wasn’t his captor, though; the murderer was also shackled to the wall with handcuffs, arms above his head. “Glad to see you’ve finally joined the living.” A voice from the corner spoke.

Twisting his head, Alec was quick to reply. “You must be Levi.”

The man shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call me.”

He walked into the light, and Alec took the chance to try and memorize his facial features- eyes large and round, red tinged nose that curled in like a beak, full bottom lip and a top lip so thin it appeared as if he didn’t have one when his mouth was closed. White male, dirty brown hair, and in his mid-forties. He was rail thin to the point of being underweight and stood just over six feet tall.

“What do you want?” Alec asked brusquely.

“Oh, haven’t you realized already?” Levi answered. “I’m in bright light with two of the people I hate most. I’m not covering my face; surely even you, the worst cop in Britain must have realized I have no intention on either of you making it through the night alive.” He pulled a half-empty carton of cigarettes from the pocket of his oversized windbreaker and lit one with a match.

_Old-fashioned._ Hardy noted. _Won’t use a lighter; that’d be too newfangled. He likes everything how he likes his religion: historical._

“Why bring us here, then?” Hardy asked. “You could have killed us both so easily instead of abducting us; why the pomp and circumstance?” 

Levi shrugged. “I’m not good with words.” He admitted. “I’m an okay writer, but when it comes to speaking, I fall short.” He took a long drag of his cigarette and walked over to Alec. A wild look in his grey eyes, the man suddenly extinguished it on Hardy’s forearm, burning through his jacket, shirt, and the first few layers of skin in one go. Hardy bit back the curse that lay on his tongue. He wasn’t going to give the man the reaction he wanted. “I figured to get the truth out of Mr. Miller here, I’d need someone with a talent for interrogation.” His eyes gleamed. “You got a confession out of him once; I think you can do it again.”

Joe looked terrified. For a moment, Alec saw him as more than a murderer- when he looked at him, he saw the retired EMT who’d cooked him dinner, and as a father. Then he blinked, and all he saw was the man who killed Daniel Lattimer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Joe insisted. “I already told you, I never touched Danny like that, not while he was alive and certainly not while he was dead.”

Levi smiled, and pulled something else from the pocket of his jacket. As it glinted in the light, Alec felt his stomach clench as he saw it was a knife. _Old fashioned bastard._ He thought. _Won’t be quick and shoot us to death, no, he has to use a knife._

Their abductor approached Joe, and placed the blade under his chin, using it to tilt Joe’s head up. “I heard you loud and clear the first time you said that, boy.”

“Why do you need to hear it?” Alec asked. He needed time to stall, to formulate his plan. “What difference does it make? If you have faith in the truth, what difference does it make whether it’s spoken?”

Levi spun to face the D.I. “These six hath Jehovah hated, Yea, seven are abominations to His soul.” He quoted. _Excellent memorization_ Alec noted _Likely high I.Q, possibly schizophrenic_. The killer continued his ramblings. “Eyes high -- tongues false -- And hands shedding innocent blood -- A heart devising thoughts of vanity -- Feet hasting to run to evil -- A false witness who doth breathe out lies -- And one sending forth contentions between brethren.” He crooned.

“What about yourself, then?” Alec demanded. “I don’t ken if you’re a liar,” He realized he was panicking as he heard the Scottish slang reappear into his speech, “But surely you’ve spilled the blood of the innocent.”

The killer snorted. “The crimson girl was a whore.” He insisted. “I was up north one night, going for a drive to clear my head. Fuck, I had to have been practically to Berwick-upon-Tweed. I stopped for some gas before the border an’ popped out the back to piss when I saw her. And you know what she said to me?”

“What?” Hardy asked, already fearing the worst.

He laughed. “She said she’d blow me for fifty quid.”

Alec felt his stomach dropped. What had the poor girl gone through, not just in the hours before her death, but in the months or even years leading up to it? “How many others have you killed? How many bodies have you buried?”

Levi shrugged. “Don’t remember. I just know when I find a rotten apple, I toss it out the barrel.” He meandered towards Alec, the knife glinting menacingly. “Let’s talk of your sins though, D.I Hardy.” He stood squarely before the detective, pressing the tip of the knife just under the first layer of skin in Alec’s neck, cutting the flesh so softly he could’ve mistaken it for a tickle had he not felt the hot blood drip down his collar. “Adultery is no laughing matter.”

Alec snorted. “You belive what’s in the papers, then?”

Their captor. “Oh, is this where you tell me it was all a misunderstanding?” The knife was slowly trailing down, just at his collarbone now.

Alec tilted his head. “I don’t think I’m the one you want to confess, Levi.”

The killer’s arms dropped to his sides. “Fine, I supposed you’re right.” He spat. “There will plenty of time to deal with you after Joe Miller is dead.” He spun to Joe. “Are you ready to confesses? To beg for absolution?” He stalked closer, knife clutched, and Alec knew this was his shot.

Alec had long heard psychologists say time seems to slow down in times of grave danger; that your adrenaline levels kick into high gear, making your brain work so fast it seems as though seconds drag on for hours. They claimed something in the fight-or-flight response was so powerful it seems to morph the laws of time itself, giving you superhuman perception in those few moments.

Those psychologists were fucking wrong, Alec mused as he folded his hypermobile hands in half to slip the handcuffs. Everything was a blur once he’s free, and he tackles Levi with all the vigor he can muster. There’s a scramble, and somehow Hardy ends up thrown across the room, eyes desperately searching for the weapon only to see it buried in Joe Miller’s chest. There’s no careful locking of eyes, no moment of forgiveness for either party as Alec hears Joe gurgle on blood, just the horrifying thought that he may have inadvertently just killed someone when he threw his weight against their captor.

“You bitch!” Levi roared, tearing the knife from the open-eyed corpse of Joe Miller. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

The man pounced on him, and Alec’s back is flat against the floor, the other man effectively keeping him down. “You could.” Hardy retorted, desperate for anything to get him out of this situation. He doesn’t want to die like this- he wants to kiss Ellie, to tell Daisy he loves her, to see this bastard behind bars. “But you’d be going against your own proclamation. You see, there’s a funny thing about the newspapers: if you pay them enough, they’ll happily turn into a false prophet.”

Something in the language forces Levi to pause. “What are you saying?’

“I’m saying.” Alec growled. “That I am a good man. I didn’t cheat on my wife; she cheated on me. My career could take the hit, hers couldn’t, so I told the papers to lie.”

This stalls the man. “You’re innocent?” Alec nodded, and the man backs off, unsure of what to do. “I’ll go to hell.” Levi whispered.

“You’re going to a place much worse, first.” Alec reassured, trying to drag himself up. His knees quaked but he stood and lunged for Levi, only for the man to start running. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and he picked up the chase but started to hesitate when he saw Levi head for the docks. “Stop!” Alec commanded, but the protest was futile. Horrified, he watched as Levi plunged the blade into his own stomach before jumping into the water.

Alec froze for a moment, as the current started to grab the killer, leaving behind a trail of bloodied water. A small part of him seemed to whisper _just let him die, no one will blame you_. He thinks of the water briefly, what it has taken from him- his marriage, when it took Pippa, his evidence, when it took the boat that transported Daniel Lattimer’s body- and knows he cannot let the water take the only chance of closing the case of the Crimson girl.

Without another moment of hesitation, Alec dove headfirst into the water. It was so cold it felt akin to burning, but he plundered on, letting the metallic trail of blood lead him to his killer. After fighting a few waves, he dove beneath the surface, opening his eyes in the frigid ocean. He dog paddled awkwardly through the dark, murky water until he saw a foot in front on him and grabbed it hard, pulling Levi to the surface. The man fought half-heartedly, but he was delirious with pain and blood loss. Once he pulled him ashore, Hardy collapses atop him to keep him pinned down.

“Please, let me die.” The killer begged.

“Sorry.” Alec said, pressing on the sluggishly bleeding wound Levi was sporting. “But it seems God has other plans.”

Levi shook his head. “There is no God present in this moment.” He murmured. “I fear he must have abandoned me, now.” 

Hardy continued to apply pressure to the killer’s wound. “Right now.” He growled. “ _I_ am your God.”

* * *

“Miller?”

Ellie looked up from the map before her. “What, Brain?”

“Call from the police station in Liverpool.” He said. “Apparently someone they just arrested wants to speak with you.”

Ellie felt the blood drop to her feet. After telling the officer on the other end of the line she’d speak to the accused, there was a click as the call transferred. “Joe?” She asked cautiously.

“Guess again.”

“Alec?” She spoke, in awe. “What the fuck happened? We thought you’d been kidnapped.”

“I was.” He replied. “Listen, I lost my I.D in the water and the whole situation looks bad, you mind coming up here so we can get this sorted?”

“What were you doing in the water?” Ellie asked. Then she shook her head. “Never mind, never mind, I’m on my way. I’ll bring the chief with me, we can sort this out quickly.”

“Thanks.” Hardy sighed. He paused. “Our killer’s at the hospital now, they’ve got guards on him. We should head there after you bust me out of here.”

Ellie inhaled sharply. “That’s… good, I suppose?’ She winced at her uncertainty. “Do you want me to bring you a fresh set of clothes? Sounds like we might need to bag yours for evidence.”

“That’d be great.” Hardy admits. “Oh, and Ellie?”

“Yeah?”  
“I love you.”

“Love you too.” She responded. “Now, get some rest, because I’m going to kick your ass for disappearing once I get up there.”

Hardy laughed and hung up the phone. He felt himself sober when he remembered seeing Joe Miller carried out from the warehouse in a body bag. He looked down at his hands, remembering how merely an hour ago he’d slipped the cuffs and tackled Levi, which in turn plunged the knife into Joe Miller’s lung. How was he going to tell Ellie he’d inadvertently killed the father of her children?

Alec chewed his lip as he was led back to his cell. There would be a time to worry about that. For now, he needed to focus on how to make sure he didn’t let another killer walk free.

He closed his eyes in the holding cell, for a moment, remembering the cold water and the harsh heat Levi’s blood left. He thought of the hissing words the killer had spoken, taunting the girl for being a whore when in reality she only wanted to survive. Alec flicked his eyes open as the idea hit him. He knew how to make sure that bastard Levi would be in prison for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe there's only one chapter left to go! I hope you all enjoyed this one; I know I did. I had the handcuff slipping scene in mind from the beginning, as I thus far Ehlers-Danlos has been the driving villain of this story. I wanted to show that even among the shittiest of things, there are always perks. I hope everyone is having the best day they can be considering the current state of the world, -Skye.


	10. Justice (Upright)

“You look like shit.”

Alec heard the voice of his partner and instantly relaxed. “Ellie.” He greeted.

The jailor had the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry about the confusion, D.I Hardy.” He apologized. “But you know how careful we need to be whenever a body is found.”

Miller frowned as the officer unlocked Hardy’s cell and let him walk out. “Body?” She questioned. “I thought you said our killer was alive. Has something happened?”

Alec’s face froze, and he turned to the jailor. “Do you have a spare interrogation room?” He asked. “I need to catch D.S Miller up on the events of the night.”

The officer nodded, and soon she and Hardy were sat next to each other in hard plastic chairs. “Alec.” She spoke. “Whose body was at the scene?”

Hardy swallowed. “I tried to keep him alive.” He whispered. “Everything happened so quickly, and I didn’t realize Levi still had the knife and-“

“Whose. Body. Was. It.” Ellie repeated, voice staccato with apprehension.

Alec sighed. “Joe’s.”

Instantly, memories rushed through Ellie’s head at the speed of light. The day they met, their wedding day, the births of Tom and Fred, and then that awful moment when Hardy told her Joe killed Daniel Lattimer. “My god.” She breathed.

“Miller.” Alec said sternly. “I need you to focus on me right now. They’ve still been relaying messages to me, and Levi broke out of the hospital thirty minutes ago. They’re looking for him, but he’s a slippery bastard.” He took a breath before continuing. “We’ll figure out everything later, but now I need to borrow your phone and make a few calls. From the way he knew his way around, I’d say Levi is a Liverpool local. He also clearly has a coke problem. He’ll be itching for a fix after detoxing in the hospital like that. We need to get plainclothes in the streets and have them watching the spots where drug deals typically happen. Then I’ll drive you home. Does that sound alright?”

Nodding, Ellie passed her phone over, hands shaking. “What am I going to tell Tom?” She whispered.

Alec took the phone before giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to tell him anything. _We’re_ going to tell him the truth.”

* * *

The drive back to Broadchurch was silent, punctuated only by the occasional sob from Ellie. Rather than go to the station, though, Alec pulled into her driveway. “Let’s get you inside and make a cuppa, okay?”

Ellie nodded, wiping the tears and snot from her face. “I don’t know why I’m so distraught.”

Hardy squeezed her shoulder gently. “I’d be far more concerned if you were taking this well. He was your husband, the father of your children. It’s going to take some time to get used to the idea, even though he’s been out of your life for some time.”

Ellie nodded. “Alright, let’s head in. Beth had Freddy earlier in the day and said she and Chloe could handle him overnight, so it’s just Tom.”

Alec unfolded himself from the driver’s side and waited until Ellie had shut her door behind her to lock the car. Heading inside after she’s unlocked the door, he goes to the stove, and after lifting the kettle to be sure there was water in it, flicks on the burner. “Sit down.” He instructs softly, pressing a box of Kleenex next to her as she sits at the dining table. “I don’t think Tom heard us come in; I’ll go get him and we can have the conversation over tea, okay?”

. “Okay. I’m going to get the biscuits from the cupboard. Chocolate Digestives, the kind people without ice in their heart eat.” Ellie teased, thinking of the plain digestives Hardy had served her that cold October night what felt like a lifetime ago, before the crimson girl, and Levi, and Joe- A sob breaks free from her throat, but she chokes it down and goes to the kitchen, opening the cupboard next to the stove while Hardy makes his way to Tom’s room.

Knocking on the door, Hardy opened it and popped his head into the teen’s room to see him playing FIFA. “Hey.” He greeted, face somber.

Immediately Tom paused his game and sets down the controller. “Why are _you_ here?” He makes no attempt to disguise the venom in his voice. Then, worriedly, “Has something happened to Mum?”

“She’s downstairs; she needs to talk to you.” Hardy says. “She’s alright though, physically.”

Tom seemed apprehensive but bounded down the stairs nonetheless. “Mum?” he asked timidly, approaching her as she sat at the dining room table with three cups of tea and a pack of biscuits.

“Tom.” She said with a watery smile. “Come sit.”

“What’s wrong?” Tom demanded, sitting down. “What happened? Why is D.I Hardy here.”

Ellie handed him a mug of tea and pushed a digestive over while Alec sat down. “There’s no easy way to say this.” She admitted. “So, I’ll just say it. Tom, your dad’s dead.” She watched in horror as the emotions cycled across his face, from disgust to sadness to what might have been joy before he settled on the one she knew was easiest for any teenager to conjure: anger.

“Did you kill him?” Tom snarled to Hardy. “You did, didn’t you? You killed him and now you’re here to try and replace him. I’ve seen the change in Mum, this was all a ploy to get in her pants, innit?”

“Tom!” Ellie gasped, but Alec seemed unfazed.

“I didn’t kill him.” Alec responded evenly. “But I was there when he died. The person who murdered that girl found on the beach a few weeks ago captured your dad. I went in, thinking I could talk him out of another murder, but I failed, and I’m sorry.”

Tom exhaled shakily. “Was it quick?”

Hardy closed his eyes, remembering how everything happened in a blur, how with the gurgling of Joe’s last breath he suddenly knew why they called it a death rattle. “Yes.” He replies. “He died almost immediately. We’ll have to wait for the autopsy report, but I’m fairly certain the knife hit his liver. He was dead before he could even realize what was happening.”

Tom nodded. “He deserved to suffer more.”

Alec sighed, and Miller took her head in her hands. “Maybe.” He replied, taking a swig of his tea and burning his tongue in the process. “And maybe not. I’m not sure any of us deserve to suffer.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I have to get to the station, but I’m going to call the Vicar to sit with you both for the night. You two focus on your family, alright?”

“I can come.” Ellie insisted. “Just let me wash my face and…”

“Ellie, no.” Hardy soothed. “You’ve had a shock, take care of you and your boys. I’ll pop round in the morning, but for now you both need sleep. If either of you need anything at all, call me, but for now I need to go back to Liverpool and catch a killer.”

* * *

In the end, it all felt a bit anticlimactic.

With the stab wound stitched up tighter than a fabric button, Levi was desperate for absolution and itching for another hit. An officer picked him up trying to buy a kilo of coke from a Serbian drug mule at the local playground, which was long since empty due to the brisk midnight air. Alec, insisting this was strictly Broadchurch business, brought him to the station -his station- and tried to interrogate him.

“Please give your full name and address for the record.”

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” Levi began.

“You are currently under arrest for felony drug charges, assault of an officer, kidnapping, rape of a minor, and two counts of murder.” Alec hissed, but Levi continued reciting the Lord’s Prayer for an hour and a half. Luckily, though, his fingerprints matched those on the knife, sealing the first count of murder, and he’d clearly been buying coke when he was arrested. Dr. O’Doherty, the linguist, got back to them after being given both the Crimson Girl letters and Levi’s journal, and confirmed the language patterns and handwritings were a match. 

After a team carefully searched Levi apartment, in a pile of phony passports and I.D’s, they found one that wasn’t counterfeit. Now, as he stood outside the killer cell, Hardy knew his true identity: Kevin Newman, a retired preacher. Following a head injury, he seemed to have lost control of his temper, resulting in a burning desire to kill any “whores” as he so delicately put it.

When Hardy went to the Millers the next afternoon without an ounce of sleep, there was a smile plastered across his face. “We did it.” He reassured Ellie. “That bastard’s going to be locked up for a long, long time.”

Miller smiled, hopeful for the first time in what felt like forever. It wasn’t until two weeks later, when the verdict was uttered, that she finally sighed in relief. Kevin Newman had been declared guilty.

Joe’s funeral wasn’t big, and his headstone wasn’t in Broadchurch, but Liverpool. There was no heartfelt message inscribed across it, no poetry or scripture, but she felt like her boys needed a physical place to corner their father into, a reminder of his mortality, so a headstone there was. It was just the four of them, Ellie, Tom, Alec, and little Fred, and as they watched the forklift dump dirt atop the Tupperware container that held Joe Miller’s ashes, Tom spoke. “I don’t want you to replace him.”

Alec nodded. “I can respect that.

“I don’t want you to replace him.” Tom continued. “Because I want you to do better than him. I want you to be faithful to Mum, and actually be interested in my science projects, and I want you to be a good role model for Fred. I don’t want you to be my dad; I want you to be Alec. Not D.I Shitface, but part of a family I’m proud of.”

Alec smiled. “I can do that.”

And when they left the graveyard, they walked away as a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can’t believe this is over, and I can’t believe it took me this long to finish! Thank you all so much for the support and lovely comments, kudos, and bookmarks over the course of this fic. I hope you enjoyed the happy ending- 2020 certainly left me with hope for happier times. Thank you all once again, -Skye  
> (p.s, as AO3 lacks private messaging, I’ve created a kik to talk to anyone who wants to connect. My UN is forlornskye and I finally remembered to set up notifications, so feel free to hmu!”


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